Or Die Trying: Cho Chang's Sixth Year
by monkeymouse
Summary: Continuing our examination of Cho Chang into "Order of the Phoenix"
1. Home

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SIXTH YEAR  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
1. Home  
  
The sound of bells striking five o'clock carried into many corners of London, including Diagon Alley. Mo Tan heard the bells as she pulled the shade down at the glass door of Chang's Emporium-the herb shoppe run by Xiemin Chang and his wife Lotus, with help sometimes from their daughter Cho. The family had gone out of the country on holiday, though, and Mrs. Tan, a neighbour who also kept a shop in Diagon Alley, was watching the store until their return.  
  
At one minute after five, the Changs returned-a week early.  
  
Lotus was first through the door. "Good; I was hoping you hadn't left yet."  
  
"Lotus!" Mrs. Tan exclaimed. "Did something happen?"  
  
Before Lotus could answer, another figure brushed by them, head down, deliberately not looking anywhere but at the ground. Cho Chang, carrying only her own shoulder-bag, rushed upstairs to the apartment. A few seconds later, the two women heard a door slam.  
  
Just then, Cho's father came in, bringing two suitcases behind him with a Locomotor Charm. "So," he said, a bit too jovially, "how's business been?"  
  
"Quite busy, actually," Mrs. Tan replied. "Bit of a surprise, really, given the hot weather. Seems to me that most folk never go out in the dog days if they can help it."  
  
Lotus quickly spoke up. "That's a pleasant surprise, then. Dear, please take the bags upstairs; I'll settle up with Mo."  
  
Xiemin knew his wife well enough to know that the two women wouldn't be discussing business. With a flick of his wand, the suitcases floated upstairs, with him following after.  
  
When he had gone, Mo turned to Lotus. "How is the poor chick?"  
  
"No better, I'm afraid. I'd hoped that Copenhagen would give her a bit of happiness."  
  
"You never did tell me; why Copenhagen? Is there much of a wizarding community up there?"  
  
"A surprisingly large one, actually, and we were able to get some business taken care of up there. But Cho was the real reason we went. When she was five, her favorite book--the first one she read completely by herself-was a collection of stories by a Muggle named Hans Christian Andersen. That was his city, and I hoped she'd get something out of that, but..." Lotus left the sentence unfinished.  
  
"Why did you wait so long to go, anyway? She was home from school for two weeks by then."  
  
"Oh, she insisted. We had to wait on the results of her O.W.L.s, you see."  
  
"And?"  
  
Lotus beamed. "Eight; three 'Above Average' and five 'Exceeds Expectations.' It would have been nice if she had one 'Outstanding,' though," she sighed.  
  
"Still, it didn't seem to hurt her studies, did it, seeing that boy."  
  
"No, and I really shouldn't have worried. Of course, ever since he was killed--"  
  
Mo gave Lotus a questioning look. "You don't really believe the story, do you?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"When the boys came back, and Ha Li Bo Te told the Headmaster that, well, that He Who Must Not Be Named did it, and had come back to life."  
  
"Why shouldn't I believe it? It makes sense."  
  
"Not according to what I've read in the Prophet. The Ministry has been writing some very interesting things about the boy."  
  
"Really?" Lotus said coldly. "We haven't kept up lately, you know."  
  
"Well, the paper keeps dropping in little hints about how he's just a boy after all, and probably a bit unstable..."  
  
"Stop right there. Maybe I haven't read the papers, and I really don't care about the Ministry. But I saw the look on Ha Li Bo Te's face when he got off the train. I was with Cho, and she'd gone all to pieces, and the look he gave her, it was as if he wanted to die and take young Diggory's place. And I've read all of Cho's letters from Hogwarts, and I could tell she had feelings for Potter, long before she started seeing the Diggory boy. Whatever else she says and does and thinks, and as much as I hate her playing Quidditch at the school, I absolutely trust her as a judge of character. If there really was something wrong with Potter, she would drop him at once."  
  
"Well, she may not have a choice in the matter. The Prophet's also been hinting that the Headmaster is on his way out, and they say that Ha Li Bo Te is one of his favourites."  
  
"That's not really important. She's got two more years at that school, and she can do it under almost anyone."  
  
"I hope so. Classes start again in a month, don't they?"  
  
"She'll be fine when the time comes; I'm sure of it."  
  
"I hope so, for her sake. So sad to face such a tragedy at her age. Well, I'll let you rest up from your trip. We can talk more tomorrow."  
  
"Of course. I've brought you back something, but I probably won't be able to unpack it until tomorrow. You can bring the cat around then too; thanks again for taking care of him. Give our best to your family."  
  
"Of course, dear, and tell Cho especially that we wish her well. Ta, then."  
  
Mrs. Tan left the shop, and Mrs. Chang went upstairs.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 2, wherein a simple birthday owl is unusually difficult 


	2. A Simple Birthday Owl

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SIXTH YEAR  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
2. A Simple Birthday Owl  
  
The Changs came back to Diagon Alley late on 4 August. They weren't expected back until the tenth. Their two weeks in Copenhagen didn't lift Cho's spirits, and their two weeks in Amsterdam became one week when Cho's mood switched from silent and sad to sullen and argumentative. The least incident, a word or glance from her mother, might set Cho off. It was bad enough that she would burst into tears; twice in Amsterdam she started shouting at her mother, loudly and angrily, in public--it was unheard of. Her parents finally decided that the trip was doing Cho more harm than good.  
  
At first going back seemed to be the right thing to do. The next day, 5 August, Cho was in the shoppe early in the morning, helping her mother, with the family cat Chairman Miao rubbing up against her ankles. Familiar surroundings, a familiar routine; these seemed to do Cho more good than a tour of the North.  
  
The tempest seemed to have blown itself out, until Lotus asked Cho to join her in the parlour after dinner for a cup of tea. Lotus poured for herself and her daughter; a pungent black Chinese tea softened by jasmine blossoms. Lotus knew that it was too soon to hope, but it seemed that Cho was doing better--better than she was in Amsterdam, anyway.   
  
"Do you think you'll be seeing any of your school friends before you go back?"  
  
Cho shrugged. "Perhaps when the book lists come out."  
  
"Yes," Lotus nodded; "they'll fill up the Alley right enough." She sipped her tea. "Do you expect to hear from Roger?"  
  
"No."  
  
"From Ha Li Bo Te?"  
  
Cho stayed silent.  
  
"We were gone for his birthday, you know."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Are you going to do something about it?"  
  
Cho noisily put her cup down. "I will if you let me!" She ran to her room and slammed the door.  
  
It was no accident--it couldn't be an accident--that her mother would bring up Harry now! She wanted to see what Cho would do; but what would she do?  
  
Whatever it was, she'd do it in the morning.  
  
xxx  
  
After the Second Task, after that first kiss, Cho lived in ecstasy--but that ecstasy could only be maintained if she pretended that Harry Potter simply didn't exist. That first kiss happened a year after Cho had developed her first crush, on The Boy Who Lived. Cedric overwhelmed her for those months between the Second and Third Tasks, but not completely; the crush stayed somewhere in the background. She didn't speak to Harry, and tried to push herself away if anyone else spoke about him, tried to ignore the crush or bury it.  
  
But why? What was she afraid of? Betraying Harry? There was nothing to betray; there was no understanding between them. The last time they had spoken was before the Yule Ball, and they hardly traded a dozen words before that.  
  
So there was nothing there, right? Wrong; something was there, she still had an unshakeable faith that something was there between them. She knew how she felt, and everyone seemed to know how he felt, but she couldn't yet figure out exactly what that feeling was.  
  
She spent a long night, very little of it asleep. She refused to admit that her mother was right about sending a birthday owl to Ha Li Bo Te; but maybe the act of writing would help her figure it all out. She waited until dawn, then she got out of bed, took parchment and quill and began to write:  
  
"Dear Harry,  
  
This is to wish you a belated Happy Birthday. How are you? I am fine."  
  
--Really? Are you? Has it finally sunk in that Cedric is dead and gone?  
  
Of course it has.  
  
--They why do you still think you'll see an owl someday with a message from him?  
  
I don't think that--not all the time.  
  
--But you think it.  
  
Sometimes, yes.  
  
--Why?  
  
Because.  
  
--Why?  
  
Because--I don't want him to be gone. Not gone forever. Not dead.  
  
--But what did Quirrell teach in Dark Arts your first year?  
  
That the Dark Arts seduce and trap people three main ways: by offering money, by offering love, but mostly by offering to bring back the dead.  
  
--And what did he say about it?  
  
That it can't be done; that the dead can never return.  
  
--So you're better off not wanting it.  
  
But I...  
  
--You what?  
  
I want to be held again the way he held me; to be kissed again the way he kissed me; and I want to kiss him back. I want the feelings again--the feelings--they were so...  
  
--Even knowing Cedric is gone?  
  
Knowing it doesn't help at all; I miss him. I miss the feelings.  
  
--Which do you miss; him or the feelings?  
  
I can't separate them any more.  
  
--Don't you think someone else could give you those feelings?  
  
I don't know.  
  
--Harry, maybe?  
  
I... don't know.  
  
--Do you want to know?  
  
But Cedric; it feels like I'm... betraying him.  
  
--You think you can hurt a dead man? You'd have to be more powerful than You-Know-Who...  
  
Shut up!  
  
Cho looked again at the meager letter she had started to write to Harry, and wanted to tear it up, start over again with a new parchment and just pour out the words, pour out everything that had happened since they first saw each other face to face on the Quidditch pitch in her Fourth Year; finally tell Harry--what? That her heart was so tumbled within her that she still couldn't say exactly how she felt about him? That she felt SOMETHING but didn't know what? That there was, in short, nothing to tell him?  
  
She re-read the letter, and picked up the quill:  
  
"I was out of the country until yesterday. That's why this is so late."  
  
What else?  
  
"I really am fine. Please don't worry about me."  
  
And what to say next? Was there anything to say next?  
  
"See you at school."  
  
--Nice touch, Cho, she scolded herself; you're warning him to keep to himself this summer.  
  
Shut up; you're not my mother!  
  
--How do you know?  
  
She signed the letter "Cho"--not "Love, Cho"--there'd be too many questions she couldn't answer if she did. She gave the note to Quan Yin, saying "You know, part of me hopes you'll lose this. But it needs to go to Harry Potter. I just... I don't know... Please." She opened the window, and Quan Yin flew out.  
  
That was her last word to Quan Yin, and for the rest of the week, that was almost her only word on the subject. She prayed to her owl to deliver the note; she prayed to Cedric's spirit for guidance; she begged her ancestors for clarity, with all her questions bound up into the single word: "Please."  
  
On the morning of 8 August, Cho's owl came back, the note unread. Quan Yin couldn't tell Cho that Harry Potter wasn't at number 4, Privet Drive, and there was no way for her to know about number 12, Grimmauld Place; no way to tell Cho that, in fact, Harry Potter was only a few miles away from her home in Diagon Alley.  
  
All Cho Chang knew, as she untied the unopened letter and threw it in the trash, was that she died a little bit that day.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 3, wherein a nightmare sends Cho looking for an old friend 


	3. What Are Friends For

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SIXTH YEAR  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG-13 (for disturbing imagery)  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
A/N: To make this fic conform to both the original "Or Die Trying" and to "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix", some adjustments must be made. The Ravenclaw Girls Prefect in Cho's dormitory is now named Marietta Edgecombe instead of Letitia Groondy, but her character is essentially the same: more concerned with style than with substance, more worried about appearances than about the truth.   
  
xxx  
  
3. What Are Friends For  
  
Cho and Cedric were together, lying side-by-side, on some sort of bench; cloth-lined, but she could still feel the hard wood beneath. They were both in their school robes. The light was dim, but just enough to see. Cho turned to face her beloved.  
  
"Cedric?"  
  
Cedric Diggory's head turned to face Cho-  
  
and fell off of its neck.  
  
Cho watched in shock as the head started to change, as if it were being Transfigured. The hair kept growing even as it turned gray and started falling out. Cedric's soothing gray eyes collapsed into his skull, the sockets quickly filling with pools of maggots. Worms burrowed out through his cheeks.  
  
Cho tried to look away, but terror kept her gaze fixed on the rotting skull. She tried to sit up, to run, but couldn't. She realized that this wasn't a bench; it was a coffin. She pounded on the lid, but all that came back was a dull thud, the sound of a coffin buried under six feet of earth, where nobody could help her, nobody could hear her if she screamed--  
  
"CEDRIC!!"  
  
Lotus Chang was up in an instant, as her daughter had awakened her so many times this summer. She didn't go down to the kitchen; she knew to keep some potions in her bedroom. She poured a dose of the Draught of Peace into a goblet and took it across the hall to Cho's bedroom.  
  
Cho was sitting up in bed, drenched with sweat but shivering as if in a blizzard, staring straight ahead, panting as if she'd just run a mile. Lotus put the goblet to her daughter's lips, and she mechanically drank the potion. She didn't seem to realize what she was doing until she'd finished and her mother was making her lie back down.  
  
"Mummy, did you just--? But I hate that potion! It makes me feel..."  
  
"You need it," her mother interrupted. "And you need your rest. Now don't give me an argument."  
  
The Draught was starting to work, so Cho couldn't do much of anything except let herself be arranged in her bed. She stayed for a moment between waking and sleeping as her mother left the room. But she was still conscious enough to hear her mother complaining to her father:  
  
"I can't take much more of this! That's twice in the six nights since we've been back, and it's just getting worse!" She heard her father's voice vaguely through the bedroom doors, but couldn't tell what he was saying. "A professional?" her mother shouted. "You mean some sort of Muggle doctor, don't you? How can we possibly trust her not to make a mistake and say the wrong thing, and her in the state she's in?"  
  
Cho tried to tell her mother she was wrong, but with the potion working in her now, all she wanted to do was sleep--  
  
--which she did until just after noon on 10 August, undisturbed by any dreams.  
  
She didn't dare leave her room. She wasn't at all eager to get into an argument with her mother, especially when she knew exactly what the argument would be.  
  
I have to stop remembering him, she'll tell me; I have to stop crying for him, but I can't! I didn't start by my own choice; how can I stop?! But I'm disrupting her life as well as mine, and I guess that's not really fair, but there's nothing fair about any of this! What happened to Cedric wasn't fair, and my shouting at him on his last day on earth--I wasn't fair--and I can't change it--and that's not fair..."  
  
That's as far as Cho's thinking got. She spent the next hour sobbing into her pillow over Cedric and the way she had treated him.  
  
She couldn't stop crying until the afternoon was half gone. She didn't know whether to dress and help her parents in the shoppe for an hour or two, and have to face their questions, or simply stay in her room for the rest of the day. She'd have to miss dinner, too, but it wouldn't be the first time, and she really wasn't hungry anyway.  
  
Cho looked out her bedroom window. Late afternoon in August and the sun was still high in the sky; the day would never end. Cho sat at her writing desk, with her head in her arms, and finally had to face it: her parents were right. She needed help from someone. Ravenclaw or not, she couldn't think her way out of this one; not on her own, anyway. There had to be someone she could talk to, but not an adult; someone only a little older, more experienced, who knew something about young love...  
  
The answer hit her like a Bludger. Why didn't I think of her sooner?! She never failed me at Hogwarts; surely she can help me now!  
  
Cho wanted to run to the parlour at once to place the call, but this bit of hope seemed to give her back her appetite. She suddenly realized that she hadn't eaten in over twenty-four hours, and felt it. She hurriedly changed. There might still be time to help out in the shoppe, to try to make up for the way she'd been acting. But she'd call first thing in the morning.  
  
xxx  
  
Cho raced through breakfast the next morning, and, with thirty minutes to spare before having to open the shoppe, she dashed to the parlour. She knelt on the carpet, threw a pinch of Floo powder into the flames and stuck her head into the grate.  
  
"Floo Network Information, please."  
  
At once the fire resolved itself. Cho now saw that she was in one of a dozen hearths that lined the wall of a large circular room. In the middle of the room sat a witch in tweed robes; a thin witch with a thin face and with rectangular glasses perched on her long, thin nose.  
  
The witch looked vaguely familiar to Cho. "Erm, Madam Edgecombe?"  
  
"Yes?" The witch squinted through her spectacles at Cho's head in the hearth. "Ah, Chang, isn't it? You're at Hogwarts with my daughter."  
  
"Yes, and she speaks very highly of you." Cho was lying; Marietta seldom spoke of her mother at all. Cho had met the woman briefly a year ago, at the World Quidditch Cup, when all that Madam Edgecombe did was complain about the crowd and complain about the "primitive conditions" and complain that she just wanted to watch a match and go back to London. "I need to locate someone on the Network, Madam. Do you have a listing for Percy and Penelope Weasley?"  
  
Madam Edgecombe Summoned a large book from between two of the hearths in the room. When it had settled on her desk, she started to thumb through it. It took about a minute for her to find anything. "Penelope Weasley, did you say?"  
  
"Yes, Madam. The last I heard, anyway, my friend was engaged to Percy Weasley."  
  
"Well, young Mister Weasley is not married, and never has been. In any case, he's been putting in long hours here at the Ministry, working very closely with Minister Fudge himself, no less. The information I have is that Percy Weasley has no fixed abode; he's moved out of The Burrow, the family home near Ottery Saint Catchpole, Devonshire, and has taken up temporary lodging in London. Messages are to be taken here and called for."  
  
Cho didn't know what to make of this. They had seemed so close. Madam Edgecombe interrupted her thoughts: "If you don't mind my asking, Miss Chang, what is the name of your friend?"  
  
"Oh, I doubt she'd be listed. Her parents are Muggles, you see. They have something to do with a Muggle university."  
  
"The name?"  
  
"Penelope Clearwater."  
  
Madam Edgecombe turned back to the book. "Well, it looks as if nothing's changed here. We still have Miss Penelope Clearwater living at Old Oaks, Little Wilbraham, near Cambridge. Shall I connect you, dear?"  
  
"Yes, thank you very much, Madam Edgecombe."  
  
The older witch threw a handful of Floo powder at Cho's face, which caused the fire to flare up bright green. When it died down, she could see the parlour of a clean, carefully decorated cottage. An older, heavy-set woman with long wavy hair, like Penelope's, was looking rather nervously at the hearth.  
  
"I'm sorry to drop in unannounced like this," Cho said, "but I knew your daughter at Hogwarts Academy, and I rather need to talk to her right now. Would that be possible?"  
  
"Oh, er, yes. I'll just, er, go fetch her." She backed nervously away from the hearth, then turned and ran from the room. Cho was surprised; Penelope was nineteen years old now. Surely her parents could have adjusted to something like the Floo Network by now.  
  
A few seconds later, she saw Penelope run into the parlour, her robes billowing behind her. She had changed only a little: she'd grown a bit fuller in the face, a bit rounder in the figure. She was clearly taking after her mother.  
  
"Cho!" Penelope shouted happily. "Good Heavens, it's been ages! How are things?"  
  
"Not very good. I really need to speak with you. Do you have time?"  
  
"Not right now, I'm afraid. I was about to leave for the Ministry, to test for my Apparator's License. I should have done a year ago, but I just kept putting things off." Penelope bit her lip, as if she suddenly remembered something she didn't want to mention.  
  
"If I may ask," Cho ventured hesitantly, "about you and Percy..."  
  
Penelope shut her eyes and took a deep breath. "That's rather a long story, I'm afraid, and I don't really want to talk about it."  
  
"But that's why I wanted to talk to you! I had to ask someone about, about so many things."  
  
"You've been seeing someone, Cho?"  
  
"Yes, until recently." Cho needed a few seconds before she could say the name, and even then could barely speak above a whisper: "Cedric Diggory."  
  
Penelope's eyes grew wide. "Oh, you poor thing! Now I understand. How can I help?"  
  
"I wish I knew," Cho said, trying very hard not to cry. "I need to talk to someone."  
  
"Wait there. MOTHER!" Penelope stood up and ran from the room. After a minute, Penelope came back. "Listen, Cho, do you think you could Floo over here on the twelfth?"  
  
Two more days? "I think I can wait that long."  
  
"It's just that my folks are going to be out of town that night. They have to attend a conference in Bristol; something to do with the uni. But then you could come over, spend the night if you can, and we can just talk everything over. I'll ask around until then and see what I can find out. Please say you'll come over."  
  
Cho smiled, for the first time in days, it seemed. "I'm sure I can."  
  
"Wonderful! I'll look for you in two days, then."  
  
"Around five, I think, once we've closed up the shoppe."  
  
"Goodbye, Cho."  
  
Cho lingered with her old friend for just a second, then pulled her head out of the grate.  
  
As she sat back on the floor, she realized that her mother had been sitting in an armchair, watching her-she didn't know for how long. "I heard about your sleeping over on the twelfth, and I suppose it'll be all right," she said in a voice that sounded grudging but that didn't match the concern on her face. "At first, I thought you were looking for something."  
  
Cho felt her throat go dry. "I think I might have found it."  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 4, wherein Cho and Penelope speak of love and broken hearts 


	4. Just Between the Two Of Us

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SIXTH YEAR  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
4. Just Between the Two of Us  
  
Cho could hardly contain herself as she worked in the shoppe on the twelfth. She was forgetting orders, not listening to conversations, jumping at movements caught in the corner of her eye.  
  
"Settle down and focus!" Lotus scolded her daughter. "You mind's a hundred miles away."  
  
Actually, this was the truth, and they both knew it. Cho could hardly stand waiting for five o'clock. The minute the last customer had gone and the shoppe was closed, Cho dashed upstairs to her room and grabbed a garment bag on her bed--a bag with several changes of clothes and a few other items which had been packed more than twenty-four hours earlier. She ran into the parlour, where she saw her mother standing in front of the fireplace.  
  
"Maybe you should eat something before you go."  
  
"I'm sure I should, mummy, but it's been ages since I've seen Penny. I don't want to miss a minute!"  
  
Lotus nodded, as if she knew exactly what her daughter would say. "You'll be back this time tomorrow?"  
  
"Unless something goes wrong, and I'll let you know at once if anything changes."  
  
"And if you go see this Muggle--"  
  
"Mother! I know what to say and what not to say; we went over this a dozen times!"  
  
"Then just stand there while I go over it again! This isn't like Quidditch. You can't practice for meeting Muggles. Their minds go off in all directions, and they'll say and do things you won't expect. You have to be prepared for anything."  
  
"I got an 'E' in Muggle Studies, mummy. Besides, Penny will let me know what to do."  
  
"Hmm." Lotus didn't seem to approve of the Muggle-born friend of Cho's; that was just about right for her, Cho thought. Such a narrow mind.  
  
"Just let us know immediately if anything happens."  
  
"Don't worry, mummy. I really think this will do me good."  
  
For a second, Cho hoped that Lotus would act like a typical mother: throw her arms around her daughter and say, "I hope so, dear." Instead, Lotus simply stepped to one side, so that Cho could get to the fireplace. "Give her our regards, then."  
  
She'll never change, Cho thought. She took a pinch of Floo powder, threw it in the grate, then stepped into the flames and shouted, "The Clearwater family, Old Oaks!" With a green flash, she was gone.  
  
"Well?" Cho's father was standing in the parlour doorway.  
  
Lotus Chang walked to an armchair, then slumped into it. "I hope she finds some kind of peace."  
  
"For all our sakes," Xiemin nodded.  
  
Lotus was almosty angry as she looked at her husband. "This isn't about me. I know what I said the other night, but I'll do whatever I have to do for her. I'm just afraid it won't be enough."  
  
xxx  
  
"Oh, Cho, I wish you could stay for days!" Penny gushed as the girls threw their arms around each other. "There are so many places around here you should see! There are some wizarding families in towm, but they all live in Portugal Place. That part of town doesn't allow motorcars at all! And the ruins of Barnwell Priory and the old windmill out on the fen--"  
  
"Stop, stop!" Cho laughed--for the first time since the Third Task. "I didn't come for the Grand Tour!"  
  
"Fine, then. We can see a few things tomorrow. Tonight you just get the House Tour."  
  
So Penny showed Cho around a Muggle house. The Clearwaters had bought Old Oaks as part of a subdivided estate on the edge of Little Wilbraham, and turned a 17th century carriage house into a home that could hold more than just the three of them. Penny's parents, however, were scholars on the faculty at Cambridge, so some of the rooms had been turned into libraries. Books lined the walls of these rooms. "I guess you don't miss the Common Room after all," Cho smiled at Penny.  
  
They also looked at some Muggle devices Cho had only heard about, such as a telephone, a washing machine, and a television. "We only watch it once in a way," Penelope said; "Dad thinks the programs are usually awful, and I have to agree."  
  
Mrs. Clearwater had left the girls a cold buffet, so they made sandwiches of ham and roast beef, with jam tarts for later.  
  
Penny's parents had set up a spare room for Cho to sleep in, but Penny Locomotored the bed into her bedroom instead. There, by candlelight, they ate tarts and crisps (which Cho had never tried before) and, courtesy of Cho's overnight bag, drank butterbeer (which Penny hadn't had since she left Hogwarts). And they talked, for hour after hour. They talked until the candles burned themselves out, and they kept on talking.  
  
"Penny, do you ever miss it?"  
  
"Miss what?"  
  
"The castle, the Common Room, all of it."  
  
"It's strange," Penny said, picking at the label on the butterbeer bottle. "I hardly remember the classes at all. But everything else: the Common Room, the library, the Owlery. When I left it, I thought, 'Right, I'm not a child anymore, I'm well out of here.' But there have been times when I just wanted to go back, and do nothing but read and eat and sleep..."  
  
"I saw you," Cho said suddenly, with a catch in her voice. "When they gave you the mandrake potion and you were un-petrified, I saw you. I was in the corridor, and Percy was waiting for you, and I saw you--I saw you rush to him." Cho had to wait a minute; her voice caught again, and tears started down her face. "I thought you two were the perfect example of love, and I so wanted to find what you had found. What happened to you?"  
  
Penny didn't answer right away. She went to her bureau, opened the top drawer, and took out a framed portrait, wrapped in black paper. She slowly unwrapped it, revealing a picture of Percy Weasley. Cho looked at the young man in the picture, who had taken off his glasses and was rubbing his eyes.  
  
"I hate these long naps," he muttered. "Penny, what are you... Oh, hello. Have we met?"  
  
"Percy," Penny interrupted, "this is Cho, an old friend from Ravenclaw House. She's spending the night."  
  
"Very well, then, YOU talk some sense into her. Merlin knows I've tried. The Ministry has laid everything out quite sensibly--"  
  
"On second thought," Penny interrupted, "goodnight, Percy." She put the picture back in the drawer.  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"You've kept up with the Prophet, haven't you, Cho?"  
  
"No. Been thinking about, about other things."  
  
"Oh. Sorry. It's just that there are these reports of You Know Who being back, and..."  
  
"He is," Cho said simply.  
  
"But, but how can you SAY that?!"  
  
"Because Dumbledore said it. Because Harry Potter told him. That's who, who killed Cedric."  
  
Penny had only heard Percy's version of this, which of course was also the Ministry's version, and stopped to consider it. "Cho, are you sure?"  
  
"Does any other answer make sense?"  
  
"The thing is, that answer may not be allowed to make sense. The Ministry's been putting out stories that, well, they don't exactly say much, but they hint that Dumbledore's getting senile and that Potter's just out to call attention to himself."  
  
"You don't believe that, do you?"  
  
"No, not really. I mean, they haven't even tried to offer up any sort of convincing alternative. But people are listening to them. You know Dumbledore's lost his places on the International Conference and the Wizengamot?"  
  
"No, I didn't."  
  
"It could be that he really is slipping."  
  
"Or it could be that the Prophet is being guided by someone in the Ministry."  
  
"Cho, if you don't mind my saying so, you're sounding like Lovegood now."  
  
"I don't care who I sound like, if that's the correct answer."  
  
"Well, this is why Percy and I are having problems. He believes every word out of Fudge's mouth. I could even learn to live with that, but, as usual, he's jumped into it with both feet, and, well, the upshot is, he's walked away from his entire family. Moved out and left after some big row." Now it was Penny who was crying. "And the Weasleys--his parents--are so wonderful. It's bad enough that he broke their hearts. But then he expected me to take his side, just like that, without thinking. I don't know what the Ministry knows, but his family, all of them, they teased him a bit, of course, but they basically stood behind him, and now he's being such a bastard!" Penny was overcome and couldn't speak for a minute.  
  
During that time Cho thought of a question, then asked it: "It's over between you, then?"  
  
"No, of course not! I wish it were different, but I can't just pretend I never loved him. Truth is, I haven't stopped yet."  
  
"That doesn't make much sense."  
  
"Trust me, Cho. If you love someone, and they break your heart, that doesn't stop you loving them all the same. That's what Percy's doing to his mum right now, and to me."  
  
Cho had never looked at it in that light before.   
  
"Cho?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Cedric. Did he ever break your heart?"  
  
"Only by dying." Cho's voice caught and was silent for a moment, then, with a smile Penelope could hear, "but I know it wasn't his idea." She sighed deeply. "There wasn't time for him to break my heart."  
  
"Of course there was. You were just lucky--or unlucky."  
  
"Well, which is it?"  
  
"Cho, maybe one couple in a thousand I know of live happily ever after. My parents have had some colossal rows, but after a while they make it up. The Weasleys are the same."  
  
Cho began to sniffle. "That last day. I scolded Cedric--the last words I ever said to him, and I never knew if he went into the Third Task angry at me or not. Of course, an hour after we quarreled, I was sorry. But I never had the chance--"  
  
"You two always got on, then, apart from that one row. No rough patches. No trials by fire."  
  
"Is that what it feels like for you, without Percy?"  
  
Now it was Penelope's turn to stop and sigh. "I never thought I could love and hate someone at the same time."  
  
"Is it really that strong, Penny? You're not just annoyed with him or bothered or--"  
  
"You didn't hear what he said. Actually, I didn't either, but I heard his version and his mother's so I think that, between the two, I got the whole picture."   
  
"How bad could it have been?"  
  
"Bad enough, from what I heard. The worst of it was when Percy said that he wasn't a member of the Weasley family anymore, that his father was an idiot and a traitor to the Ministry for siding with Dumbledore against Fudge."  
  
"Why would Dumbledore and the Ministry fall out?"  
  
"I guess you HAVE been preoccupied. It's all to do with what Dumbledore said about You Know Who. The Ministry has been saying he wasn't telling the truth."  
  
"What, about Voldemort being back?"  
  
Penelope gasped loudly. "How can you say his name so casually?"  
  
"I'm just not afraid of him anymore. And if there's going to be another war as Dumbledore said, I want to be part of it. I want to meet Voldemort face to face. I want it to be my hand that plunges a knife through his heart for what he did to Cedric."  
  
Penelope must have been holding her breath, because she let it all out in a rush. "I didn't think you had that in you."  
  
"If Cedric were alive today, I probably wouldn't."  
  
"If Cedric were alive today, you'd probably be off with him now."  
  
"Possibly." Cho was glad that Penny couldn't hear her blushing.  
  
The sound of crickets came in through the open window.  
  
"You'd best get some rest, Cho. You've got to keep your wits about you tomorrow with the doctor. She's a Muggle, you see."  
  
"But you think she can help?"  
  
"Mum says she's helped lots of people, some of them with problems worse than yours."  
  
"Hard to imagine such a thing."  
  
"Could you have imagined what happened between Percy and me? Because I couldn't. G'night."  
  
"Good night, Penny."  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 5, wherein two witches tour Cambridge and Cho goes in for counseling 


	5. A Professional

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SIXTH YEAR  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
5. A Professional  
  
Cho's appointment wasn't until one o'clock in the afternoon, so there was no need to set an alarm. Cho and Penelope both woke up about an hour after sunrise.  
  
"How did you sleep?" Penelope asked, smiling but with a bit of worry behind her eyes.  
  
"Perfectly," Cho sighed and stretched. "Best rest I've had in months. Thank you for inviting me over, Penny; I really needed this."  
  
"I wish you could stay longer than just the one night, then. Maybe you just need a change of scenery."  
  
"No, I wouldn't wish that on you. I know it'll come on me sooner or later, and I..." Cho had to pause. "I'm terrified of going back to Hogwarts. Everything there will remind me of him."  
  
Penny nodded. "Well, that's why you're here, isn't it? Do you want to have breakfast now, or have a lie-in?"  
  
"I'd better get up now. If I'm awake and alone, my thoughts will just start chasing themselves."  
  
So the girls changed into Muggle clothes for the day: jeans and pullover shirts. They went down to the kitchen and Penelope used her wand to make a breakfast of bangers, pancakes, oatmeal and pumpkin juice. "It's nice cooking for someone," she said, setting the food down on the table. "I cook for my parents a few days a week. They enjoy the break, and I was--I was practicing up for Percy." She sat down heavily, just looking at her food for a minute.  
  
Cho, who thought she knew what Penelope was thinking, watched her silently. In a minute, Penelope snapped back to the kitchen. "Well," she said happily to Cho, "the breakfast meeting of the Lonely Hearts Club will now come to order."  
  
Cho relaxed, too, smiled and started eating, but thought about Penelope even as they were chatting over breakfast. She's helped me so much, Cho thought, and now we both need help.  
  
xxx  
  
The office of the "grief counsellor" was located in Caius College, Cambridge. Cho's appointment was at one o'clock, so they decided to make their way there slowly, touring some of the university grounds.   
  
Penelope had hoped to take Cho to Denny Abbey, five miles outside of Cambridge proper. It was the ruins of a Benedictine monastery from the Twelfth Century, and in its time had played host to a number of other orders of monks and nuns. "It's not convenient today," Penelope said as they walked toward the campus; "maybe next time. It's where I go when I want to be alone." She paused for a second. "That's been quite a bit lately."  
  
"Maybe we should both talk to this doctor of yours," Cho suggested.  
  
"Our problems are different," Penelope sighed. "At least I can talk to Percy, and I would, if he ever bothered to return any of my Floo messages. But he still insists that I say that he's right and all the others are wrong, and I can't do that."  
  
They spent part of the morning walking along the River Cam, that ran through the campus and was a tourist attraction in itself. Punts were moving up and down the river. Still, as picturesque as the river was, that wasn't where Penelope was taking Cho.  
  
They walked until they arrived at the Cambridge Botanical Gardens--one of the great natural displays in all of England. Cho was fascinated, as they moved from garden to greenhouse, looking at the wide variety of plant life, from meadow to desert. Still, Cho couldn't help noticing that, for all the species there, a great many were missing.   
  
"Well, you can't have any of the maneaters about," Penelope explained, "Devil's Snare or anything like that. The poor Muggles would be defenseless."  
  
"Still, I'm sure Sprout would love this place!"  
  
"I actually bumped into her here one summer. My parents would take me here all the time when I was little, but I'd just gotten home from my Second Year, and it was my first real look at herbology. So I came through the Glasshouse here, and it's as if I was seeing everything for the first time instead of the ninth or tenth. Anyway, I'm coming out of the Glasshouse, and just down the path I see Sprout! She's dressed like a Muggle, in a traveling-cloak; no matter that it was July. I so wanted to call out to her, but instead I just sort of followed her for a while, until she saw me. Then for the rest of the afternoon we..." Penny realized that Cho had stopped on the path several paces back. She stood still, one hand over her eyes. "What's wrong?"  
  
Cho could hardly speak without choking; it took her more than a minute to get the words out. "I ... We used to meet by the greenhouses. It's just too many memories; I'm sorry."  
  
"Think nothing of it," Penelope smiled, putting an arm around Cho's shoulders. "This is like your first day at Hogwarts, isn't it? I was afraid you'd turn out to be a weeper, but you weren't."  
  
"These days I'm more of a screamer, I'm afraid."  
  
"Well, that's why we're here. Come on, then; if we're going to have lunch at all before your appointment."  
  
They found a shaded spot off of the trails, and had a short lunch of sandwiches and pastries Penelope had baked for the occasion. Cho hardly ate a bite or said a word. Penelope simply let her be; then, as the hour drew closer to one, they went off to the buildings that make up Caius College.  
  
They went into one building, and through a maze of corridors that, while not as changeable as the halls of Hogwarts, was still confusing enough. They finally found the office door they wanted:  
  
JKR Angetrang, Department of Psychology.  
  
"She's a colleague of my mum's," Penelope had explained on the walk over. "The name is Dutch, but that's her husband's; she's from Scotland. They say she's very good at what she does. I hope so, for your sake."  
  
Cho could only manage a small, weak smile in reply.  
  
Penelope squeezed Cho's shoulder. "I'll wait in the corridor until you're through."  
  
Cho nodded and knocked lightly on the door.  
  
"Come in," answered a voice inside the office.  
  
Cho walked into what she had always thought an academic office would look like: there were bookcases on most of the walls, and books were piled onto them in any old order; and papers were piled on top of the books. Yet she had the sense that the occupant of the office knew exactly where everything was, and had simply to put out her hand to find it.  
  
The occupant, Dr. Angetrang, was short and a bit stocky; her ginger-coloured hair was streaked with silver, and, although she wore a starched white blouse and pale blue skirt, had a casual air about her. She stood up and reached across her large wooden desk to shake hands with Cho as if she was very glad to see her; then she settled back down in her chair as Cho sat in hers. The doctor put her fingertips together and looked at Cho through very lively eyes.  
  
"Emma Clearwater sent you to me, did she?" she asked without the slightest Scots accent in her voice.  
  
"Well, I know her daughter Penelope. We went to school together."  
  
"Which one?"  
  
This was one of those Muggle questions Cho had prepared for. "It's up north. just over the border; you won't have heard of it."  
  
"Try me; I hiked all over the tors when I was growing up."  
  
This made Cho nervous. If she had hiked all over the area, though, the protective charms would have kept her away. "It's a very small place, just about an hour north of Snitter's Run."  
  
"It does have a name, doesn't it?"  
  
Cho had to think fast: "Saint Rowena's Academy."  
  
"Hmm." Dr. Angetrang sat still for a moment, then smiled. "I guess I don't know the country as well as I should. Serves me right for boasting."  
  
"Penelope says your name is Dutch."  
  
"My husband's name. Have you ever been, then?"  
  
"We were in Amsterdam for a week this summer. Father insisted on showing us the wartime hiding places and--" Cho cut herself off in horror. She was about to tell this Muggle about the hiding places wizards used during the war against Grindelwald.  
  
But the doctor simply nodded her head. "Like the Frank house, eh? But we're here about your problems, aren't we? Start at the begining, then."  
  
Again, Cho had rehearsed what she would tell the doctor; it would be enough, but not exactly a lie. "I was asked to a school dance last Christmas by a boy at school, named Cedric. After that, we started seeing a lot of each other; we even talked of marriage on one occasion. But then, last June, he was in an athletic competition at the school; something went wrong, and he died. Since then, well, do I have to tell you?"  
  
"I think I can guess, but you'd be better saying it."  
  
"Sometimes I'm just overwhelmed by feelings. They just come up, like a wave. I can hardly move or speak; all I can do is cry or scream. And then there are nightmares..." Cho found that she couldn't go on; she buried her face in her hands and started weeping.  
  
She went on like that for a minute, as the doctor simply sat and looked at her. After a minute, though, Dr. Angetrang rose from her chair, walked to a shelf, and started pulling out books.  
  
"D'you see these, then?" She stacked five thick volumes on the corner of her desk. "Every one of those books predicted exactly what you'd say when you walked through that door. The fact is, all of us who lose a loved one go through pretty much the same reactions; the degrees may vary, but the reactions are the same. Your reactions have been very violent because his death was so sudden and public."  
  
"Will I be over it by the end of the month? I don't think I can go back to school like this."  
  
"My dear, this isn't a head-cold we're talking about. I'm afraid I have some bad news for you. These feelings will come unbidden; something may remind you of your friend, or absolutely nothing will remind you. It's just that the shock and sorrow will hit you by surprise."  
  
"But I've already caused so many problems for my parents..."  
  
"I'm sure they understand why you're acting this way. If you have understanding friends at school, then just let the emotions happen. That's the only way to get them to lessen and end. If you try to put a stopper on everything, then pressure just builds up and it'll all come out eventually, only worse."  
  
"But how can I possibly get along with everyone if I keep on like this?"  
  
"What's important is that they allow you to talk about it, whenever you like, for as long as you like. That's the only way to get it out of your system and for your emotions to settle down. Do you have a counsellor at your school?"  
  
"Not as such. There's the Head of our House, or the professor in the hospital wing--"  
  
"Yes, yes," Dr. Angetrang interrupted, "but what about Prefects and such--someone closer to your own age?"  
  
"Well, I, I'd like to think that they'd listen to me. Not all the time, perhaps--"  
  
"This isn't about convenience, Miss Chang. It's about other people being patient with you during the grieving process; more importantly, you must be patient with yourself. You mustn't expect everything to run on a schedule like a train. You will feel bursts of emotion, and there's nothing you can do to avoid it. But you can talk about it, and you really should, at the first opportunity. Is there anyone who shares your feelings about the dead boy?"  
  
Cho had wondered about this; about the last person who saw Cedric alive. Was he shocked as well? Was he given to sudden arguments this summer, to outbursts of emotion that were unlike him, to horrible dreams? "I think there might be, yes."  
  
"Then seek that person out and have a good long talk. It will help you see your way clear. The sooner you do, the sooner the grieving will take its course.  
  
"But let me give you one last warning. Drinking or drugs have never shortened the grieving process; quite the opposite, in fact. Some people think they feel much better, but all they've done is put a stopper on the bottle, as I said. You were born with these emotions for a reason, my dear, and now is the time to use them. Do you understand?" Cho nodded. "Well, then, here's my card. If you absolutely can't find anyone at school to help you, don't be afraid to pick up a telephone and reverse the charges."  
  
No telephone would ever work on the Hogwarts grounds, and Cho knew this, but she simply nodded at Dr. Angetrang, shook her hand and left the office.  
  
Penelope had almost dozed off reading a pocket-sized novel by Prangboller when Cho stepped out of the office. They walked together silently out of the building, and it wasn't until they were back in the August sun that Penelope asked, "How did it go?"  
  
"Not at all well. I wanted to stop throwing these emotional fits, and she's telling me I should go ahead and throw them, and trust that my friends will understand."  
  
"Well, they will, won't they?"  
  
"Penny, we're talking about Ravenclaw House. With us it's minds first, hearts second."  
  
"Sounds like it might be a rough year," Penelope nodded.  
  
Still, Cho thought, she did say to talk to someone if I feel the need; someone who'd understand. It's funny if all of this means that I have to make an effort to talk to Harry Potter...  
  
xxx  
  
Cho explained what Dr. Angetrang had said that evening to her parents.  
  
Lotus Chang's reaction was swift and expected. "Sounds like typical Muggle rubbish."  
  
"You can't say that. This is what they do. Muggles die tragic deaths too, you know; this is how they try to cope."  
  
"Fine. She gave you her card, did she? Next time you wake us all up with the terrors, I'll just run out through the Leaky Cauldron, find a telephone, call her, and then SHE can come down here and give you the Draught of Peace!"  
  
"Mother, I'm sorry if I'm being a bother, but I'm not enjoying any of this! Stop making it sound as if I'm just doing it to spite you!"  
  
Lotus shot up from her chair, grabbed her plate off of the table, and marched into the kitchen. Cho ran to her bedroom and slammed the door. Chang Xiemin and Chairman Miao simply looked at each other, resigned to two more weeks of arguments until Cho went back to school.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 6, wherein Cho makes a fateful decision  
  
A/N: The advice from Dr. Angetrang is a summary of "The Mourner's Bill of Rights" by Dr. Alan Wolfelt, which appears to be part of the mainstream of grief therapy. It's interesting to think that, while many readers dismissed Cho as an opportunist (or worse) for trying to talk to Harry about Cedric, she may have just been "following doctor's orders".  
  
The name Angetrang is from a throwaway line in a favorite movie of mine; it's an early Whoopi Goldberg film, co-starring Jonathan Pryce (who really ought to be used in the the Potter films somewhere): "Jumping Jack Flash". I hope I don't have to explain the doctor's initials. 


	6. Shopping For Something New

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SIXTH YEAR  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
A/N: You'll note that I had Roger Davies as two years ahead of Cho in "Or Die Trying"; "Order of the Phoenix" showed that he was only one year ahead. So call it a Flint. Likewise, when I arbitrarily decided that Cho was a supporter of Puddlemere United; it wasn't until "Phoenix" that JKR confirmed she was really a supporter of Tutshill. I intend to go back and change the early Flints accordingly, someday.  
  
xxx  
  
6. Shopping For Something New  
  
Cho awoke on 30 August to find a strange owl on her windowsill. At last, the school owl with her book list had arrived.  
  
They're cutting it close, she said to herself as she untied the letter. She quickly read through the letter signed by Assistant Headmistress McGonagall and went straight to the booklist. Everything looked pretty much as expected. "The Guide to Advanced Transfiguration", "Moste Potente Potions", "Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes" for Flitwick, "Ancient Runes Made Easy," ... Ah; this is a mistake. I told Flitwick I wouldn't take Divination this year, but "The Eye and the I Ching" is still on the list. I'll talk to him about it when I get there. Miranda Goshawk's "Standard Book of Spells", Volume 6. And--that's strange. The Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook for Sixth-Years ought to be Eggdonny's "Light Shall Be Your Shield," and instead they've got this "Defensive Magical Theory" by Wilbert Slinkhard. Cedric told me about his classes and he never...  
  
Cho had to stop and sit on her bed. The memories flooded into her again: the long hours in their secret garden behind the greenhouses, where they'd spent the spring of the year planting flowers and talking and holding each other and tasting the kisses from each other's lips... It was all she could do not to cry out, but, after a few very long minutes, she was able to compose herself again, and slow her breathing, which she found had become short and shallow.  
  
She thought again, as she had several times that month, about doing something rash. She knew what she had to do, and she knew her mother would hate her for it.  
  
She went down to breakfast in her school robes. "The school letter came this morning," she announced to her parents. "If you don't need me in the shoppe this afternoon, I'll get my books."  
  
"The owls are rather late getting out this year, aren't they?" asked her father from behind a copy of the Daily Prophet. "I expect Flourish and Blotts'll be a madhouse. Are they open tomorrow? You could go then."  
  
"But tomorrow's the last day, so it'll be even worse, what with witches having to get here from out of town and everything."  
  
"Hasn't it occurred to you that our shoppe will be a madhouse as well?" Lotus asked crossly.  
  
This time, Cho decided not to rise to her mother's bait. "If I get my books today and pack half my things tonight and the rest on the morning of the first, then I can help in the shoppe all day tomorrow."  
  
"Sounds like a good time management plan to me," Chang Xiemin said as he folded the newspaper to an inner page, took his wand from his belt and drew a circle around an article about an increased budget allocation for the Pest Advisory Board at the Ministry. A glowing copy of the article appeared, floating six inches above the table. He plucked it out of the air, folded it and put it in the pocket of his robes. "I've got a meeting with them next week; you remember," he told his wife. Lotus simply nodded. "There's some good money to be made if I get in with the right wizards."  
  
Cho was out of her seat before her father had finished speaking. "I'll open up." She went downstairs, trying very hard not to let the rage she felt show on her face. Rage; that was the only word for it. She despised Amos Diggory, who worked in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Amos had forbidden his son Cedric to see Cho, and since then Cho had blamed him for his son's death--in part, at least.  
  
At the foot of the stairs, Cho stopped, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then went through the curtain to open the Chang family herb shoppe for the day.  
  
xxx  
  
They weren't as busy as the bookstore, but the business was constant. Some of the older students came in looking for ingredients that Professor Severus Snape would require for Advanced Potions. Among these students was Roger Davies, captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team and now in his Seventh Year. He had started out trying to keep Cho off of the team, but now they were close friends. In fact, they both knew that Roger wanted to be closer than a friend to Cho, but she simply didn't feel that way about him.  
  
"A pound of shredded dittany and two pounds of knotgrass," he told Cho; she offered him a small, weak smile and went off to fill his order. When she came back with two pouches of herbs, Roger put his hand on hers; Cho quickly jerked it away. "Listen," he whispered, "are you, erm, how are you?"  
  
"I'll be all right," Cho sighed, not looking up into his eyes. Roger gave her two Galleons; she gave him change as if he were just another customer.  
  
"Well. See you on the train, then."  
  
Cho just gave a small nod of her head and went to help another customer.  
  
At noon, Lotus went up to the apartment and came back down with a cold lunch for the two of them: marinated tofu and mushrooms, pickled cucumbers and a mixture of rice and barley. There was also a pot of tea. They ate in silence, and Cho emptied her teacup in one gulp. "I'll be back as soon as I can," she said to her mother as she was on her way out the door.  
  
The worst of the summer heat was over but the day was still warm and sunny. As expected, Diagon Alley was full of shoppers, especially Hogwarts students on frantic last-minute shopping trips. Flourish and Blotts, the wizarding bookstore, was so crowded that Cho could barely move. She looked around at the students and, in many cases, their parents, and realized with a start that she hardly knew any of them, and that they were all younger than she. Look at them: so young, she thought. It hardly seems possible that I was that young once.  
  
She gathered up her textbooks and found that she could afford Eggdonny's Dark Arts text as well as Slinkhart's and still have some Galleons to spare. She got into the queue to pay for her books, but the line was a slow one. By the time she left Flourish and Blotts, she realized that she had been in there for over an hour.  
  
She looked up and down the crowded cobblestone lane, with Gringotts Bank glowing white and powerful at one end and her family's herb shoppe at the other. The idea she'd had for much of that month was still with her, and she knew that, if she didn't act on it now, she wouldn't have the courage to act on it again.  
  
She looked at the shop she wanted to enter, but there was a crowd there, too. She would have to wait. She decided to pass the time in Quality Quidditch Supplies, and hoped the crowd would thin out in a little while.  
  
The last time she was there was a year ago, just before the World Quidditch Cup, and most of the souvenirs of that momentous event were now gone. There were just a few pennants left, prices drastically slashed, in a barrel by the door, and they didn't even bother to flutter or cheer as Cho came in.  
  
"Hey, that's you, isn't it? The Seeker." One of the owners of the store, a withered old wizard named Gridpipe, was behind the counter. Cho had impressed him the year before with her knowledge of the great Seeker Eunice Murray. Gridpipe had played for the Wimbourne Wasps in his youth, and had seen Murray in the twilight of her brilliant career.  
  
Cho hadn't really planned to buy anything, but saw a display of badges for the Tutshill Tornados: two dark blue Ts on a pale blue ground. She'd supported Tutshill since she discovered Quidditch as a child, and the summer after her first year at Hogwarts, her father had actually given her a Portkey that sent her to the Tutshill stadium where she could practice while she was away from school.  
  
"A Tutshill badge, please," she said, smiling as best she could.  
  
"Been sellin' a lot o' those," Gridpipe smiled. "O' course, they're havin' their best season in years. Could go all the way."  
  
"I hope so," she nodded, realizing with a start that she had no idea what Tutshill had been doing for the past two months. The end of the Tournament had driven Tutshill, and so many other things, out of her mind...  
  
"Here, you were supposed to tell me when you were playin' last year, and I heard nary a word."  
  
Cho kept her eyes on the two Sickles she handed Gridpipe. "That was because we didn't play last year. They canceled Quidditch for the..." Her voice caught. "For the Tri-Wizard Tournament."  
  
Gridpipe's hand paused for a moment as he handed her the badge. "Ah. Bad business, that. Did yeh know him, then; the one what was killed?"  
  
It was all Cho could do to nod her head and say, just above a whisper, "He was a Seeker, too."  
  
Gridpipe nodded his head as if he understood. "I'll look for yeh this year, then."  
  
"Thank you," Cho muttered, without even being sure if she was thanking him for the badge or for the compliment of making the journey to Hogwarts to see her play. "Sorry, but I have to..." Cho left the sentence unfinished as she turned and almost ran out of the shop.  
  
She found that her heart was racing again; she waited until it and her breathing slowed. She looked across the lane; the shop she wanted was empty now. She checked her money pouch; she still had enough. Her throat went suddenly dry as she crossed the lane and entered Madam Tituba's Treasure Tresses.  
  
Madam Tituba was a large, round-bodied and round-faced witch in vibrant red and orange robes, with a smile as wide as her face and skin as black as the ropes of hair that hung down from under her hat. "Welcaam teh mi paahlah," she said in a thick Jamaican accent as she beamed at Cho. "I know I nevah see yah heah befoah. Siddown, den." Cho steeled herself and sat in the beautician witch's chair.  
  
Madam Tituba drew Cho's hair out behind her, letting it slip through her fingers. "Ah, dis a fine beautiful head o' hair. Yah tek good care, I kin tell. So what would yah want from me now?"  
  
Cho took a deep breath, closed her eyes and said, "I want it cut off. All of it."  
  
After ten seconds of silence, Cho opened her eyes again. Madam Tituba was standing behind Cho with a somber, almost sad look on her face. "Chile, I doan' usually say no to de customah, but it would be a crime..."  
  
"But I ... you don't understand," Cho said, trying to hold onto her emotions but letting a single tear escape down her cheek. "Something ... happened. I need to change myself. Please do this for me."  
  
"Yah woan' find what yeh're lookin' for dat way."  
  
"But I have to do something! It..." Cho almost lost control again; she had to stop and compose herself. "It hurts too much to remember."  
  
They kept it up for several more minutes, with Madam Tituba declining and Cho insisting. Finally, realizing that Cho was not going to leave without a change, the black witch waved her wand. Cho's hair immediately was shortened, ending just below her shoulders instead of at the small of her back.  
  
"Yah unnerstan' dis is an example," Madam Tituba said. "I've not cut nuttin' off yet. Dis is jest an illusion, teh see if yah like it like dis."  
  
Cho reached behind her head, pulling her hair up until it seemed to make a respectable ponytail, while with her hair down it appeared from the front as if nothing had been cut off. The weight of her hair was still in her hands, even if she couldn't see it. She let go and closed her eyes. "This will be fine."  
  
A single pass of Madam Tituba's wand, and it was done. More than half of Cho Chang's hair, fully a yard long, lay on the floor of the shop. Madam Tituba picked it up carefully, as if it were a favourite pet that had died. "Yah know I can re-attach dis tomorrah or de next day..."  
  
"I won't want that," Cho said, as she took five Galleons and gave them to Madam Tituba. "I won't change my mind. Burn it or bury it or do what you wish. Thank you."  
  
Cho quickly left the shop. She had hoped that the change would make her feel better, or at least different. It didn't. But she wasn't going to have it undone.  
  
As Cho knew she would, her mother took one look at her and screamed. "WHY DID YOU DO THAT? THAT WAS YOUR TREASURE!"  
  
"I--I can't explain it. I had to make a change."  
  
"So why didn't you just cut it all off! Become a nun! That's a change, too!!" Before Cho could say another word, Lotus threw up her hands in disgust and stormed up the steps to their apartment. For the next two days, she didn't say a single word to Cho.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 7, wherein Cho meets friends on the Hogwarts Express and sets off the Great Poster Argument 


	7. Back to Hogwarts

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SIXTH YEAR  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
7. Back to Hogwarts  
  
Cho Chang and her father sat in the back of a Muggle cab headed for King's Cross Station. Cho was quiet and sullen, her arms folded over her chest. Her father looked through the window at the buildings he had passed a dozen times. He had never felt so distant from his daughter.  
  
After the argument over her haircut, Lotus simply refused to say a word to her daughter. This suited Cho just fine. But her father wanted to say something, especially since it would be months before he saw her again.  
  
That morning, at breakfast, he had simply said, "I'm going with you onto the platform this time. I'm going to see you on the train."  
  
Cho, who had other plans, plans she'd kept hidden from her parents, was outraged. "I'm not a child! I can do this all myself!"  
  
"I know that, but things have changed."  
  
It would make no sense denying the truth to her father: that she still had nightmares about the death of Cedric Diggory. "But with you on the platform, it'd be as if you were pointing the finger at me, for all the world to stare at! Please let me just get on the train."  
  
"I'm worried about you, and you make me out to be some sort of criminal."  
  
"I'm not making anything. Why can't you just leave me alone?"  
  
"Because I know it'll be difficult for you. You might want a little help."  
  
"I'll have friends on the train, if I need help."  
  
Lotus glared at her daughter, still not speaking but aching to say something to Cho. And Cho knew exactly what her mother wanted to say: that her "friends" hadn't bothered to send a single owl in the two months of the break, that they wouldn't know how to react to Cho at Hogwarts, that those gwailo witches couldn't be counted on for anything...  
  
Cho gritted her teeth and jumped out of the cab as soon as it stopped at the station. She loaded up the cart with her luggage and quick-walked into the station as if her father wasn't even there.  
  
After he settled the cab fare, he caught up with her halfway to the platform. "You didn't think you could get rid of me, did you? I'm a lot like you; we do whatever we have to do."  
  
The barrier wasn't crowded; they were early. They passed through to Platform Nine and Three Quarters, where a few students, some of them with parents, were milling about.  
  
Cho wanted to grab her trunk and put it on the train herself, but her father was just a step quicker, and carried it on himself. She had no choice now but to take Quan Yin and follow him.  
  
He found an empty compartment toward the rear of the train and placed Cho's trunk there. Cho came in, turned her back to her father and placed Quan Yin's cage on the overhead rack. As soon as she did so, her father put his hands gently on her shoulders. He tried to be gentle, but she still cringed at his touch.  
  
"You're not in a contest this year, you know," he said softly. "Don't try to be courageous if you don't need to be. Just take care of yourself. We both worry about you, believe it or not."  
  
"I ... I know," she said, barely above a whisper, still with her back to him.  
  
Chang Xiemin let go of his daughter's shoulders; they stood still for a minute. "Well, which is it," he asked; "are you too old now to kiss me goodbye, or am I too evil to get a kiss?"  
  
Cho suddenly turned and threw her arms around her father. "I'm sorry, daddy," Cho said, again barely above a whisper. "I know I've been awful to you."  
  
"I understand. Just do your best. And write to us; tell us how you are. And tell your Head of House if you really start having problems. You know what I mean."  
  
Cho gave her father a quick peck on the cheek. "I know. Goodbye, daddy."  
  
Seeing that he was being dismissed, he gave Cho a wry smile and left the carriage.  
  
Cho actually watched him walk up the platform and through the barrier before she closed the door, then turned and started rummaging through her trunk.  
  
xxx  
  
Before the train started, two of the others from Cho's dormitory found her compartment and settled into it; the Prefect, Marietta Edgecombe, would of course ride with the other Prefects, and Jan Nugginbridge wouldn't board the train until later that day, when the Hogwarts Express stopped at Snitter's Run, near the border, to pick up students who lived in the North. But Diana Fairweather and Raina al-Qaba lived in London, like Cho, and they looked in the compartment and found a smiling Cho Chang, happy to see them, looking forward to the new school year, and eager to share what they had done over the summer.  
  
They hardly noticed as the train pulled out of the station; they were still too busy chatting away about topics from Cho's haircut and her trip to the Continent ("Copenhagen and Amsterdam--both lovely little cities, but I really wasn't at my best and didn't get much out of them, I'm afraid") to the reunion of Raina and her cousin, who she hadn't seen in four years.  
  
"She's actually engaged!" Raina gushed, "and she's no older than me. And no, it's not what you think. She doesn't have anything in the cauldron, although I'm sure she will soon enough. We're fond of large families."  
  
Diana clucked her tongue. "No offense, but I can't imagine living like that. Just staying at home all day with the little pups? I need to be out doing something." She then looked at Cho, as if asking her to agree.  
  
"I--I'm not really sure now," Cho said, her voice a bit hesitant in spite of the smile on her face. "I mean, my parents still expect me to get into the family business, and sometimes I think I'd like the quiet. Things can change so quickly, after all. I'll probably just make up my mind when the time comes."  
  
The others thought she was talking about Cedric, but that wasn't the case. She couldn't yet talk about why she had gone to those two European cities, both of which were major pockets of resistance during the war against Grindelwald.  
  
Daddy tried to explain it to us, Cho thought as she half-listened to Diana talk about how she and her Muggle mother took part in an amateur theatre company. We went there because he believed me: Voldemort is alive again, and, sooner or later, there will be another war.  
  
xxx  
  
After a couple of hours, she felt that enough time had passed. Cho excused herself and started walking the corridors of the Express. She was out of practice as a Seeker, but she kept her gaze straight ahead while checking out the compartments from the corner of her eye. She saw the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, sitting still and very quiet. She knew exactly why, but kept a grip on her emotions. Not here, she scolded herself; not now! She saw compartment after compartment full of strangers, of children far younger than she. For a second, she felt that maybe she'd gotten on the wrong train.  
  
Then, she saw him.  
  
She walked past the compartment for a few steps, gathered herself, put on her sunniest smile, turned back and opened the compartment door.  
  
"Oh...hello, Harry."  
  
And was hit at once with the odour of Stinksap.  
  
It was all she could do to keep the smile pasted on her face. One glance around the compartment told her the story: Neville Longbottom (Padma Patil had told the Ravenclaws all about how he had left a list of the Griffindor passwords lying about during the Sirius Black scare) had brought that plant, a Mimbulus mimbletonia, onto the train, and it had just sprayed the compartment and everyone in it. Cho also noted that one of those in the compartment was a Ravenclaw--Luna Lovegood. True to her House, Luna had had the presence of mind to hide behind a newspaper and avoid the worst of the plant. But not the others: Harry (who for some reason was holding a toad), Neville and Ginny Weasley (Cho remembered the business about the Chamber of Secrets).  
  
With that smell in the air, the closest Cho could come to any kind of witty response was, "Um...bad time?"  
  
Only then did she realize: Harry had taken the sap in the face. It covered his glasses. He didn't even know who she was yet! She could have retreated, but she stayed frozen in the door as Harry held the toad in one hand and wiped his glasses on his robes with the other.   
  
"Oh...hi," he said, a blank look on his face. He's probably refusing to believe this is really happening, Cho thought; I know I am!  
  
"Um..." Cho's mind, which had planned for, hoped for, this meeting, went blank. She could feel her face going red. "Well..." she tried again, "just thought I'd say hello...'bye then." She closed the door and, realizing she'd been holding her breath, let it all out in a rush.  
  
Neville and his damned plant. She'd learned to avoid it years ago, when her parents introduced her to it under its more accurate Chinese name: a name which meant "Night Soil Defense".  
  
xxx  
  
Nobody at the Ravenclaw table thought there was anything odd about Cho until after the Sorting and after the feast, when the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher got up to speak, which was itself a novelty. The teacher herself, Madam Dolores Umbridge, was a short, squat little witch with bulging eyes that had a disconcerting way of seeming to look several directions at once.  
  
Cho listened to a minute of her talk--some babble about tradition being as important as the new--then she turned to Marietta Edgecome and started chatting happily away, as if a professor wasn't addressing the Great Hall.  
  
"I saw your mother over the summer--did she tell you? I really must thank her again. She was such a help in locating Penelope Clearwater--you remember her, of course..."  
  
Others around her exchanged glances. Here she was nattering on about the summer while a professor was making a speech. Of course, it didn't take them long to realize that Umbridge wasn't saying much of anything anyway, and that others around the hall were, like Cho, ignoring the professor. It all may as well have been a class with Professor Binns.  
  
Finally, Umbridge sat down and Headmaster Dumbledore dismissed everyone. Cho was feeling a bit unsteady, and was looking forward to a good night's sleep.  
  
"Miss Chang."  
  
Cho was surprised to see her Head of House, Professor Flitwick, standing next to her. She hadn't even seen him leave the Head Table.  
  
"Good evening, Professor Flitwick. Did you have a nice summer? You know, there was an error in the book list--"  
  
"Stop it, Miss Chang." The little wizard had a strange look on his face; Cho couldn't be sure if he was angry or sad. "I know, you see. I know exactly what you've done."  
  
Cho had been afraid that he might notice, but decided to brazen it out. "I don't think I've done anything, Professor."  
  
"How many times today, Miss Chang? Two; perhaps three? You are doing yourself more harm than you know. The after-effects--"  
  
Cho cut him off in mid-sentence. "There's really no need for you to be worried, Professor. I'm feeling quite fine now, and I'm sure I'll get through the year in good form."  
  
Professor Flitwick started to say something, then changed his mind. "I tried to warn you," he said sadly, shaking his head. He then walked back to the Head Table and started to talk to Madam Pomfrey. Cho was sure they were talking about her.  
  
Nonsense, she decided. Let them think what they like. It's nothing urgent, and by morning everything will be normal again.  
  
And it might have been, except for talk of the absent Libby Foggly and the Great Poster Row.  
  
By the time she walked into the dormitory room at the top of the girls' staircase, the other four were already there, still talking about summer, as they unpacked.  
  
"Marietta," Diana Fairweather asked, "have you heard anything at all?"  
  
"Not a thing," the Prefect shook her head, "and you'd think they'd tell me. I don't think anyone knows what's become of Libby."  
  
"I know," Cho said.  
  
The room went immediately quiet. "Out wi' it then," Jan urged.  
  
"The last night, during the Leaving Feast, I--I didn't eat anything. I just couldn't. I came back up here, and Libby was throwing everything in a trunk. She said she was leaving Hogwarts because ... because she was a Death Eater."  
  
Cho was met by a stunned surprise from the other girls. "I didn't believe it myself," Cho went on, "until she showed me the Dark Mark, branded into her arm. She said her parents were Death Eaters, too, and wanted her to join them, now that Voldemort was alive again."  
  
Only Jan and Raina flinched at the name; the others stared at Cho in silence. Then, after almost a minute passed, they turned back to their unpacking, as if Cho wasn't even there.  
  
Now Cho was the silent, stunned one. "Don't you believe me?"  
  
"Would you believe it?" Diana asked. "I mean, we've lived with Libby for five years, and this is the first we've heard about Death Eaters or any of it."  
  
"On the other hand," Raina added, "she was always interested in the Dark Arts. Maybe a bit too interested."  
  
"So are a lot of us here," Diana replied, "but that doesn't mean they'll turn bad. All of Slytherin would have left over the summer if that were true."  
  
"An I think I would've seen summat wrong wi' 'er."  
  
"She wasn't like that! She just kept everything a secret. Why won't you believe me?"  
  
Diana sat on her bed. "Cho, you have to admit you're sounding a lot like Loony Lovegood."  
  
By now, Cho was sitting on her bed as well, and starting to shudder. She knew why, even if the others didn't. Professor Flitwick had been right; she had dosed herself three times that day with Cheering Charms. Now they were all wearing off at once, and Cho was starting to feel the effects.  
  
"Look what me mum gave me," Jan announced to the room; "kind of a back to school present." She had just attached to the wall over her bed a poster of the Weird Sisters. Apparently they were in concert when the picture was taken. Their lead singer, Kirley McCormack, smiled out of the picture, guitar in hand, while the others seemed to be waiting for him to say or do something.  
  
"An' here's the best part." Jan touched a corner of the poster, and immediately McCormack strummed his guitar and started singing:  
  
"It was a pumpkin sunset..."  
  
That did it. Cho hadn't heard the song since the Yule Ball, since the night she learned to dance in the tender arms of Cedric Diggory. Her lip trembled as she tried to hold the feelings in, but it was no use. She threw herself onto her own bed, sobbing loudly into her pillow. The song played on from the poster, but Cho only half-heard it, overcome by her memories of Cedric and the knowledge that she would never see or touch him again. But as the song ended, she heard bits of muttered conversation from the other girls:  
  
"Not givin' up me poster!"  
  
"Didn't you stop and think?!"  
  
"But why should we turn all our lives around just because she's lost it?"  
  
"How can you SAY that about the poor thing?"  
  
"Wha' poor thing? First that load o' toss about Libby an' now this?! Gonna be a bitch of a year, innit."  
  
Cho stopped listening, pushed herself up off her bed with as much dignity as she could muster, and grabbed her pillow and blanket. "You needn't worry yourselves," she said to the room in general; "I'll sleep in the Common Room tonight, and make other arrangements in the morning." She ran out of the room, slamming the door behind her before the others could say a word.  
  
The Common Room was deserted when she got there. Deserted, and somehow colder than she'd ever remembered it being. She dropped her pillow onto the daybed, wrapped the blanket around herself and sat down. What she was feeling was partly grief over Cedric, and partly a reaction to the Cheering Charms wearing off at once: a feeling of isolation, of being alone in a cold and uncaring world.  
  
Now I've done it, she thought; I've ruined the day for all of them. Why did I come back? She threw herself back onto her pillow, sobbing in despair.  
  
Nothing registered with her for several minutes, until she heard the voice:  
  
"Come back upstairs, Cho."  
  
It was Marianna Edgecombe, standing at the foot of the stairs to the girls' dorms. She was in a bathrobe and slippers.  
  
"Why?" Cho sniffled. "So they can call me 'Loony' again?"  
  
"Nobody's calling anyone anything," Marietta said as she sat on the end of the daybed. "I just reminded them of one simple thing: you've been a great friend to all of us through the years. We talked it out and took a vote, and you should come back upstairs."  
  
"A vote?"  
  
"It wasn't unanimous, I'm afraid, but we decided that, well, this is new to all of us, and you're really not to blame for going through a rough time. But we'll have to work on it together. Besides, how would it look for me if the Prefect can't patch up a simple little argument?"  
  
For the first time that day, Cho Chang smiled. It wasn't the mindless grin brought on by Cheering Charms; it was a bit weak and apologetic and tearful, but it was Cho, smiling from her heart. She gathered up her pillow and blanket and walked up the stairs with Marietta.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 8, wherein Ron finds out about Cho's favorite team, the school finds out about Harry Potter's defiance, and Cho finds out about the Iron Quill. 


	8. Stumbling

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SIXTH YEAR  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
8. Stumbling  
  
Cho was the first one awake Monday morning; she was the first in her robes and out the door. As she walked to the Great Hall she was also running through the entire upcoming year in her head, trying to figure when Quidditch practice might be and what nights to spend in the library until closing. She was determined to be the first girl out of the dorm every morning and the last girl in the dorm every night. She resolved to spend as little time in the room as possible, with or without the reassurances of the Prefect.  
  
She had Quidditch to worry about. She also had classes to worry about. No matter what mood she was in, this was her Sixth Year, which meant advanced work in most of her classes. She couldn't allow herself the luxury of grieving over Cedric--not too much grieving, at any rate. Because this year, it seemed, she also had her dormitory-mates to worry about. She still had no real idea what the year would bring, except that this year would have one major difference.  
  
She would seek out Harry Potter. She would talk to Harry Potter. She would get to know Harry Potter.  
  
Part of it was because she needed to know what had happened to Cedric in his final minutes of life. And, like it or not, Harry was the last one with him. Also, the two of them had Cedric's death in common; surely it had upset Harry as well. They could talk about it together; they could console each other; isn't that what the grief counsellor said to do?  
  
Cho wouldn't mention--for the time being--the fact that she had had a crush on Harry since her Fourth Year, and perhaps even earlier.  
  
It was while these thoughts were chasing through her head, sitting at the Ravenclaw Table in the Great Hall, picking at breakfast but not really hungry, that Harry and his usual friends--Granger and Ron Weasley--arrived. They didn't look over at the Ravenclaw table; Cho kept her eyes fixed on Harry, until he sat with his back to her. She sighed, feeling let down, but not totally sure why. After all she'd already resolved to make the first move--  
  
"Morning, Cho." It was one of the Ravenclaw Beaters, "Jinx" Jenkins. He sat across from her, blocking her view of Harry. Before he could say anything else, though, the morning mail owls swooped in, dropping dozens of letters, parcels and copies of the Daily Prophet.  
  
"So; er, have a good summer?" "Jinx" winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth. "Wait; I didn't mean-- Well, you know what I meant."  
  
She gave him a sad smile. "It was all right."  
  
"I wanted the team to get together and send you a scroll, but we couldn't agree on anything, and people were in and out of the country. Guess we're not really a team unless there's a Quaffle involved."  
  
"I know." Cho's smile got a bit broader. "Thanks."  
  
Just then Professor McGonagall started passing out schedules to the rapidly-filling tables. Cho noted that Umbridge's class would be her first class Fridays, and Potions with Hufflepuff would be the last. All she needed was History of Magic to make Friday the worst of the week. Still, she had a week to prepare for all that. Today would be Advanced Astronomy theory first, then Herbology, Ancient Runes after lunch and Magical Creatures to round it off.  
  
"Have you seen Roger yet?" Cho asked.  
  
"Jinx" shook his head. "I saw him for a quick minute last night in the Common Room, but he was working out some lists. I reckon he's trying to figure out which Reserves to move up as Regulars. All the teams have lost players since last time." As soon as he said that, Cho's smile dissolved as her eyes started to fill with tears. "Oh gosh, Cho, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."  
  
Cho had one hand over her eyes while she waved Jenkins off with the other. "Don't apologize. It's me; I'm sorry. I'll be all right."  
  
"Yeh, well..." Jenkins took his schedule and left the table.  
  
Damn it! Cho cursed herself; it's starting already and it's got to stop! Otherwise this whole year will be a disaster. She composed her face, wiped her eyes, and went to fetch her books for her first class.  
  
xxx  
  
The Astronomy classroom was brightly lit with candles on all tables and flaming torches in all the wall sconces. They were needed, because just as class began, the sun disappeared behind gray clouds and a light rain began spitting against the windows. Cho didn't much notice the rain, until Professor Sinistra began discussing Pluto and its lone moon, named Charon by the Muggles. "Both names," said the professor, "are of course associated with Greco-Roman mythology about the dead."  
  
Cho bit her lip, looked out the window, and noticed for the first time that the rain clouds were exactly the shade of Cedric Diggory's eyes. She spent most of the rest of the lesson clutching the edge of her desk and trying not to scream.  
  
She remained at her seat, composing herself, for a minute after class was dismissed, then rushed to the courtyard. She would need to cross the courtyard to get to the Greenhouses for Herbology, but the rain hadn't let up; if anything, it was a bit worse. She found herself pushing through knots of students who were also trying to wait out the rain.  
  
Then she turned one corner--and ducked back around the corner. There he was. Harry was standing just a few yards away, with his friends, also waiting out the rain.  
  
She wanted to talk to him; needed to. But she hadn't counted on the others. He always seemed surrounded by those two. Why couldn't she catch him alone? There was no hope for it now; who knew when the next chance might come? May as well say hello to Harry and ignore the others.  
  
Cho smiled as best she could, and turned the corner again. "Hello Harry!"  
  
Harry seemed quite surprised, and started to blush even as he said "Hi." What was there to be embarrassed about? He was probably remembering the train, she decided. "You got that stuff off, then?" she smiled, trying to make a joke of it.  
  
"Yeah," he nodded, also trying to grin. He paused a few seconds, as if unsure what to say. "So," he finally tried, "did you, er, have a good summer?"  
  
She saw him wince the instant he said it; knowing it was the worst possible thing to say. For Cho it was a repeat of what had happened with "Jinx" at breakfast. No, not this time, I will NOT lose control! Not here! She choked off the sob while it was still in her throat, held her face still, and said quietly, "Oh, it was ... all right, you know..."  
  
"Is that a Tornadoes badge?" Harry's friend Ron Weasley chose this worst moment to barge into the conversation. He was pointing at the pale blue Tutshill badge she had bought the week before and forgotten about. But there was something odd about Weasley; he was acting as if the badge was the Dark Mark. "You don't support them, do you?"  
  
"Yeah, I do," Cho snapped back at him. What was his problem?!  
  
He bore down on her like Snape at his worst, or like an Auror trying to extract a confession. "Have you always supported them, or just since they started winning the league?"  
  
Cho felt what Harry must have felt on the train with the Stinksap: this is just surreal--it can't be happening! Gathering as much dignity as she could, she shot an icy look at Weasley and said, "I've supported them since I was six." She glanced at Harry, who seemed thoroughly embarrassed by the whole thing.  
  
A couple of students ran past. The Greenhouses! She was going to be late! "Anyway," she turned to Harry, who looked at her with an embarrassed half-smile. "See you, Harry." And she crossed the courtyard, through the still falling rain.  
  
By the time she was halfway across, she heard Granger shouting at Weasley for being so rude. Cho allowed herself a small smile.  
  
xxx  
  
She had trouble concentrating in Herbology; the strange encounter in the courtyard would not go away and could not be explained.  
  
What was Weasley so worried about? So what if she had a Tutshill badge?! That can't have been the real reason for all that...  
  
Cho took brief notes as Madam Pomfrey described some of the dozens of carnivorous species of plants in Greenhouse Number Four. Cho had had experience of half of them, and wasn't worried about the lesson. It was Weasley that bothered her. All Cho really knew about him was that he had been rescued by Ha Li Bo Te during the Second Task, and that he was a brother to the Gryffindor Beaters. But was that a reason for him to be so challenging?  
  
Or was that it? Maybe he was trying to be protective of Harry--The Boy Who Lived, after all, had saved his life. But that didn't explain why he thought Cho was any kind of a threat...  
  
She just kept going around in circles about it all, trying to unravel Weasley's Tutshill Problem while also sketching the distinctive petals of the Blue-Blossomed Toad-Guzzler.  
  
xxx  
  
After class she went straight to the Great Hall; her stomach was starting to growl in the Greenhouse and she knew she should have had a bigger breakfast. But she wasn't sure if her nerves would let her have much for lunch either.  
  
As soon as she sat down, Roger Davies, Captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, sat opposite her.  
  
"Doing all right, Cho?" he asked, his concern plain on his face.  
  
"I'm all right," she smiled; "thanks for asking."  
  
"How's Thursday evening on your schedule?"  
  
"Nothing so far."  
  
"Looks like we'll have practice Thursday evenings, then. Come to the stadium and we can start practice right away. Just a matter of promoting a couple of Reserves to Regulars."  
  
"It's a long time since I flew; I can hardly wait."  
  
"I think this'll be a good year."  
  
"It's your seventh, isn't it, Roger? We'll make sure to win the Cup for you. A leaving present."  
  
"That's what I like to hear. See you Thursday, then." He paused for a moment, then said, "I'm glad to see you're better."  
  
"I think I can handle things. Don't worry."  
  
"Later, Cho." Roger got up and left. When he did, she could see Harry and his two friends at the Gryffindor table. Again, Harry sat (deliberately or not) with his back to her. But Cho noticed something else: the rest of Gryffindor House seemed to be avoiding Harry. There was several feet of empty table on either side of him, and it didn't seem to be accidental.  
  
Cho looked at the shepherd's pie on the table, and was once again not hungry.  
  
xxx  
  
She didn't let her mind wander during Ancient Runes; they were so complicated that they required nothing less than full attention. On the other hand, Care of Magical Creatures was a doddle, since she'd already had experience with bowtruckles; her parents sold them in their shoppe.  
  
At that evening's dinner in the Great Hall, conversation was taken up not with any of the Ravenclaws' new classes, but by rumours of Harry Potter. She sat down next to some Third-Years; their conversation was so animated that they didn't even notice Cho.  
  
"Got into a real dust-up with Umbridge."  
  
"Never!"  
  
"Personally, I wouldn't put it past him."  
  
"Yeh, he's fought a dragon before, hasn't he?"  
  
"But this dragon's high up in the Ministry. He's jeopardising his whole life!"  
  
"From what I hear, it may not be a long life. It's as if he's asking to get thrown into Azkaban."  
  
"But nobody in their right mind would want that!"  
  
"My point exactly."  
  
This time Cho was very hungry, but still she didn't bother to eat; she was too agitated. She had to know what this was all about.  
  
She noticed that a large knot of Ravenclaws were leaving the table, and this time the center of attention was Fifth-Year Padma Patil; her twin sister Parvati was in Harry's year in Gryffindor. Thinking that she'd know best what had really happened, Cho got up and followed the group through the corridors, into the West Wing, behind the tapestry (using the password "chthonic"), through the bookcase and into the Common Room. There was already a large group of students, apparently waiting for Padma. Apparently they'd had the same idea as Cho.  
  
Padma, not usually one for making speeches or idle conversation, gave a sigh of resignation. "Listen up, everybody," she said loudly, "because I don't want to have to tell this whole bloody story again. I'm telling you the way Parvati told it to me. First of all, the way Umbridge teaches Dark Arts is utter rubbish. She doesn't teach anything at all! She just teaches the theory of defensive spells, but won't let anyone actually do the spells. And that book!" A few students, who apparently had Umbridge already, were nodding their heads; when Padma mentioned Slinkhard, all of them seemed have read the book before the term began.  
  
"Anyway," Padma went on, "some of the Gryffindors--Parvati included--start talking back to her about the class, but then Harry Potter starts in on how we're going to be attacked by You-Know-Who." A few Ravenclaws chuckled derisively when Padma said that, which made Cho angry. "He even comes right out and says the Name, which costs Gryffindor ten points. But he keeps on about You-Know-Who being back, and Umbridge says he's lying, and Potter says the Ministry is lying, and the upshot is that he's got detention for a week!"  
  
"Better him than me," muttered a Fourth-Year boy.  
  
"Shouldn't have talked about the Ministry like that," Cho heard the girl next to her say.  
  
"The last part of it was Umbridge saying that the Ministry believes that You-Know-Who hasn't been reborn, and isn't waging a new war or anything, and Potter says, 'Oh, so Cedric Diggory just sort of dropped dead, then?'"  
  
Cho had resolved to be the last girl in her dormitory at night. That resolution was forgotten as she worked her way around the crowd still listening to Padma, dashed upstairs to the empty dorm, jumped into bed, drew the curtains, buried her face in her pillow, and wailed out the grief she'd been fighting off all day long. She cried herself to sleep.  
  
That night, she had the Coffin Nightmare again. She woke out of it, again screaming Cedric's name. As soon as she did, someone opened her bed curtains.  
  
All four of her dorm-mates were staring at her, wands lit. Raina was sad, almost in tears herself. Jan looked disgruntled at being woken up. Diana seemed merely curious as to what the noise was all about. And Marietta was trying to keep her face a blank mask, but some concern still showed through.  
  
Cho looked at the others, all looking at her. She started to say "I'm sorry," but got no further before she started crying again, now out of shame and embarrassment instead of grief, and buried her face in her hands.  
  
She heard Marietta say, "I'll take it from here, then," felt the Prefect crawl onto her bed, and heard the curtains being drawn again. Marietta gently pulled Cho's hands away from her face. "Has this been going on all summer?" All Cho could do was nod. "What do you usually do?"  
  
"My ... My mother would ... Draught of Peace."  
  
"Well, that's more than I happen to have in my pockets," Marietta said, smiling slightly. "Think you'll be all right without it? Or should I send you to Madam Pomfrey?"  
  
"I ... I think I'll be fine now. At least, until morning."  
  
"Let's see what we can sort out in the morning. Rest easy, Cho." Marietta let Cho alone and closed the bed curtains.  
  
Cho laid back against her pillow, eyes wide open, trying to fight sleep. Before this she hadn't tried to simply go back to sleep after a nightmare, and now she was deathly afraid of embarrassing herself twice in one night. After almost an hour, sheer exhaustion overcame her, and she fell into a dreamless sleep.  
  
xxx  
  
Cho almost slept through breakfast Tuesday morning as a result, and attended the morning classes in a fog. It wasn't until her afternoon Transfiguration class that she felt even remotely like herself.  
  
She spent the rest of the day and much of the night in the library working on her bowtruckle scroll for Professor Grubbly-Plank. She then relocated to the Common Room to work on Ancient Runes, and stayed up until midnight, when the Ravenclaws had Astronomy in the Tower.  
  
An hour later, as she stumbled into bed with the others in her dormitory, Cho realized, with a bit of a jolt, that she'd gotten through the entire day without thinking of Cedric even once. She was vaguely bothered by that, but too sleepy to let it keep her up.  
  
xxx  
  
Wednesday morning Cho awoke at dawn, having slept more soundly than she had in days. Still it bothered her; if the only way to get a good night's sleep is to exhaust myself, I won't last a month.  
  
As she parted the curtains of her bed, she saw Marietta putting on her robes. "How are you, then, Cho?"  
  
"Fine, I suppose. Last night, did I--"  
  
"No, and you don't have to worry about the others. I worked out a temporary solution."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Soundproofing Charms on all the other bed curtains. The castle could be falling apart and they wouldn't know."  
  
"Well, that helps them, but--"  
  
"I didn't soundproof your bed or mine. If you get in a bad way, I'll still be able to hear it and do something about it."  
  
Cho smiled. "You're a better friend than I deserve, Marietta."  
  
"Nonsense; I'm the Prefect. It's my job to keep track of everyone and sort out the problems. Ready for the day, then?"  
  
Cho nodded. "The morning should be simple, at least."  
  
She was right about that. First came History of Magic with Binns, who hardly anyone listened to; next, Advanced Charms with their Head of House, Professor Flitwick. Charms were never Cho's strongest subject, but Flitwick was so kindly and pleasant that she didn't mind making the extra effort.  
  
Today, however, he kept Cho after class when the others had gone. "I never really had a chance to tell you about the Divination text on your book list."  
  
"I assumed that the letter would be the same for everyone."  
  
"No, they weren't all the same. And I recall why you wanted to leave Divination." Before term ended, Cho had walked up to the Divination professor, Madam Sybil Trelawney, and embarrassed her by asking why she did not foresee the death of Cedric Diggory. Later that day, she asked Professor Flitwick to place her in Muggle Studies instead of Divination.  
  
"To tell the truth," Professor Flitwick continued, "I had hoped that you would reconsider over the summer. Sixth Year is, after all, when Professor Trelawney teaches Chinese methods of Divination such as the I Ching. I've heard reports that you are quite adept at these methods, and was hoping you would assist Professor Trelawney; from the source, as it were."  
  
A student assisting a professor?! Cho was shocked, and honoured, and almost didn't notice Professor Flitwick continuing. "But that was before the arrival of our new ... of Professor Umbridge. She's already put the school on notice--just a few hints here and there, nothing formal--that she'll be reviewing the performance of every instructor at Hogwarts. The Ministry seems to have some sort of idea that the school poses a danger to the entire wizarding world. Rubbish, of course." Flitwick stopped a moment, his brows wrinkled in deep thought. He seemed to forget that Cho was there.  
  
Then he came back to himself. "Well, it's all one. I did want to let you know what I was thinking. Under the circumstances, having a student assist an instructor would be an insult to the instructor; an indication that all was not well. However, I was hoping that you weren't still so opposed to Divination that--" Flitwick's voice trailed off, expectantly.  
  
Cho shook her head. "I'm sorry, Professor. I meant what I said. What good is Divination if nobody saw what ... what would happen?"  
  
"Oh, I'm sure someone saw it, Miss Chang. The Department of Mysteries at the Ministry has an excellent collection of prophecies, or so I understand. I'm sorry that this particular prophecy seems to have been, erm, overlooked at the critical moment. But, be that as it may, of course I'll allow you to change to Muggle Studies." Flitwick straightened his robes; they had been studying Levitation Spells, which had left everyone a bit rumpled.  
  
"Thank you, Professor."  
  
"And, Miss Chang, if there are any serious problems..."  
  
"I promise I won't do anything foolish."  
  
xxx  
  
By the time she made her way to dinner in the Great Hall, Cho once again felt that coming back to Hogwarts at all might have been something foolish--colossally foolish.  
  
Professor Idylwyld's Muggle Studies had started in on internal combustion engines. After a long and tedious lecture about the mechanical principles behind the engine, at the end of the period the class was assigned a five-scroll essay describing how the engine was linked to Muggle wars of conquest and political corruption. It seemed like university-level work to Cho, who groaned along with the rest of the Sixth-Years. But Cho also groaned because she knew she was headed for the first of two Potions classes of the week.  
  
Cho had no idea how Snape had spent his summer holidays, but it hadn't improved his disposition. Barely were the Sixth-Year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs in their seats when Snape turned on them, almost ferociously.  
  
"I have seen the phenomenon far too many times here at Hogwarts," he started, looking darkly at all of them. "The O.W.L.s are behind you now, the N.E.W.T.s are next year, so you consider yourselves able to glide through this year, able to, as the saying goes, 'skive off'. I promise you, you are wrong." He paced back and forth in front of the class, like a caged tiger at the zoo. "You have crossed over into Advanced Potions, and this will mean a great deal more work, more concentration, and more presence of mind than you have shown me in recent months.  
  
"Miss Chang, briefly explain--if a Ravenclaw can be capable of explaining anything briefly--the significance of cinnabar to the ancient Chinese alchemists."  
  
No, you won't, Professor Snape; you will not force me to humiliate myself the way you did my first day.  
  
Cho took a deep breath, stood, and stared directly at Snape as she answered: "Cinnabar plays a role comparable to that of gold in Western traditions. The mercury contained within cinnabar is extracted and added to sulphur in a process performed nine times, which yields an elixir known as the Elixir of Return." With that, she sat, her eyes still locked on Snape.  
  
Snape looked at her for a few seconds, then turned away and looked to the Hufflepuffs. "Miss McQuinch, the uses of mercury--ALL of them."  
  
xxx  
  
Once again, Cho hardly ate a bite at dinner. School was exhausting her; not the course work, but the stress of being back, of holding in her emotions when every stone in the walls reminded her of Cedric.  
  
Raina was sitting across from Cho, her face full of concern. "Don't worry," she said. "I'm sure you'll feel better once you get back on a broom. When's your first practice?"  
  
"Tomorrow night."  
  
"We can all tell, you know," Raina went on as she dished herself some chicken curry. "We can always tell when you've been on a broom; your whole demeanor changes. It's really obvious. How long has it been?"  
  
"Not since..." Cho started to choke up again, but forced it back. "The night of the Third Task."  
  
Raina blushed, muttered a "Sorry," and started to rise. Cho grabbed the sleeve of Raina's robes.  
  
"Don't go, please." Cho's lower lip trembled. "I--I don't mean to upset anyone, but I do it anyway and..."  
  
Raina sat back down. The rest of the dinner was silent; Cho may have been glad for the company, but Raina seemed nervous, as if she might again say or do the wrong thing.  
  
When they got to the Common Room after dinner, they saw a small crowd by the bay window. Padma Patil was once again holding forth; they heard the phrase "Harry Potter's detention." This stopped Cho in her tracks; she wanted to listen to this.  
  
Raina, however, shook her head and started up the stairs to their dormitory, saying, "I can't listen." It would take a few weeks before Cho fully understood what that meant.  
  
Meanwhile, Padma was explaining what happened to Harry's hand while he was writing lines for Umbridge. "Parvati said that you could actually read the scratches on the back of his hand".  
  
Vincent Krixlow gave a low whistle. "She's usin' a damned Iron Quill; no doubt about it."  
  
"Never heard of that one, mate," Pablo Molina said.  
  
"Well, let's see," Vincent said, scanning the walls of books until he saw what he wanted. He pulled his wand and pointed it at the bookcase on the opposite wall: "Accio Fingdelly!" At once a slim grey-bound volume slipped out of the case and flew across the room, landing in Vincent's hand.  
  
"This is 'Dark Devices and Demonic Doodads,'" Vincent went on. "It was written by Warren Fingdelly, and it's a nice little book full of nasty little things. Every one would be at home in Knock Turn Alley."  
  
"Seems to me I saw that one in the Restricted section," Diana Fairweather began.  
  
"Just borrowed it for a bit," Krixlow grinned. He was deliberately underplaying his ability to steal a Restricted book, hoping it would impress his Housemates--and it did. "Here it is," he said after thumbing through the book. "It says here the Iron Quill was invented in 1647 by Invidious Kafka, as a way to help Cromwell and the Puritans sort out the wizards from the Muggles. After the Restoration the Wizards Council banned its use, but every century or so someone's hauled it out again."  
  
"What does it do, exactly?" Cho asked.  
  
"Exactly, I couldn't tell you. That would take some serious Arithmancy to explain how it works, and I'm avoidin' Arithmancy like Filch was teachin' it. But, near as I can tell, there's some sort of ghost nib, you might say, that does to the back of your hand whatever you're doing to the paper with the real nib. So you really are writin' with your own blood."  
  
"And she's a high-ranking Secretary in the Ministry?" asked Terry Boot. "She belongs in Saint Mungo's; that's sick!"  
  
Cho nodded and settled into a comfy chair. She tried to read for her Runes assignment, but the late nights studying and early mornings were catching up with her. Her eyes started to water and go out of focus; she struggled to pay attention to the runes on the page...  
  
She fought her way through a veritable forest of high grass, brown and dead but blocking her way. It was a struggle to make even a few inches of progress. Finally, though, she broke through.  
  
She saw a pit. It was a huge pit; Cho imagined that it was what the lake would look like if it were drained of all water and baked for months under an unforgiving sun. The pit, and all the land around it, was brown, dead and dusty. And at the bottom of the pit was a strange looking machine. It looked vaguely like one of the old looms she'd read about in Muggle Studies, or an old Muggle printing press, or a little of both, and something else that made it look--just--wrong, like a plant or animal that has no business being alive.  
  
Cho tried to get a closer look at the machine, but she couldn't; the pit was ringed with a wire fence; nothing could get into the pit. So it was with surprise that she saw figures down there, moving toward the machine. The Slytherin Quidditch team, in full uniforms, were marching by twos, guarding a naked Harry Potter. Harry's hands were tied and clasped in front of him, and Cho was too far away to see clearly, but she could tell that Harry was being held prisoner. She got up to the fence.  
  
Just then a loud, high-pitched voice echoed through the pit: "HEM HEM!" It was Professor Umbridge, dressed in elaborate robes but still with those silly little-girl ribbons in her hair. "The prisoner has proven to be most reluctant to accept the authority of the Ministry. Instead, he has persisted in spreading pernicious lies that can only upset and disturb the wizarding community and cause people to mistrust the Ministry. Lesser means have failed to persuade him of the error of his ways; we therefore must render upon him the supreme judgment."  
  
Cho looked back at the machine; Harry was now strapped to it, face down. Umbridge pointed her wand at the machine, and it started moving. The parts didn't move in a way that made any sense, and nothing seemed to be touching Harry Potter's back. But his back began turning pink, then red, then, even from her vantage point yards away, Cho could see the small red dots appearing on the prisoner's back. The number of dots grew and clustered together, until they formed great bloody gashes on his back--gashes that spelled out, in cursive script, "I MUST NOT TELL LIES"...  
  
"CHO!"  
  
Cho woke up. It took her a few seconds to realize that she had fallen asleep in the comfy chair. Jan Nugginbridge had been shaking her shoulder.  
  
"Yeh were doin' it agin, weren't yeh? Dreamin' 'bout Cedric."  
  
"What?" Cho was still confused from being awoken so suddenly. "Did I say anything?"  
  
"Yeh were sayin', 'Take me! Take me instead!' Dreamin' 'bout that night, eh?"  
  
Cho shook her head, hoping that Jan could not see her face, which Cho felt was burning crimson.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 9, wherein the Ravenclaw Quidditch team prepares for the year ahead  
  
A/N: Cho's dream about Harry's torture is based on the literary work that, I believe, inspired JKRowling--and, if you haven't read it already, I recommend the short story "The Penal Colony" by Franz Kafka. 


	9. Serious

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SIXTH YEAR  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
9. Serious  
  
A/N: OotP went into greater detail about the Ravenclaw Quidditch team than any of the previous books; as a result, some of my Original Characters from "Or Die Trying" will have to be dismissed, modified or otherwise accounted for. In this case, the Reserve Chaser formerly named Leigh Caporeale is now named Torrance "Torture" Chambers.  
  
xxx  
  
As Cho left Transfiguration--her last Thursday class--and headed toward Ravenclaw House, she could vaguely hear rolls of thunder outside the castle walls. The Ravenclaw Quidditch team would meet after dinner, but there wasn't likely to be any practice tonight.  
  
Roger confirmed this at dinner that night, as he walked around the table talking to the members of the team.  
  
"We're in the Common Room after dinner," he told Cho. "No flying tonight, but at least we can get the changes straight."  
  
"How many changes?"  
  
"Only a couple, and most of the Reserves have had some experience. I think the side'll be as strong as we ever were."  
  
"That's good to hear," Cho smiled. Roger went on down the table, leaving Cho to eat in a calm state of mind--calmer than she'd been all week.  
  
After dinner she walked back to the Common Room, where she saw the team gathering near the bay window. As she sat on a divan she could hear the rain ticking against the windows.  
  
Before Roger could say anything, though, Chaser Pablo Molina stood up. "Sorry to do this to you, Rog, everybody, but I can't be on the team this year."  
  
Davies seemed to lose control. "WHAT HAPPENED??"  
  
"My O.W.L.s happened. They were pretty far below what my parents expected, and they told me to sit out a year. Get my priorities straight, they said."  
  
"Fine for them, but what are we supposed to do? We've already lost one Chaser and the Keeper to graduation."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"Fine, then. I'll try to get us a few hours this weekend if the weather breaks, or even if it don't. Meanwhile..." He looked around the room. "We have the same Beaters and Seeker, and that's something. I'll let you all know about this weekend once I've talked to Hooch. Cho and Pablo, stay here for a bit; otherwise, that's all."  
  
The others drifted off. "Right," Roger said to the two remaining players, "how do we get out of this?"  
  
Cho spoke up: "A couple of seasons ago, those times when I was in the hospital wing, didn't we use Chambers as a Chaser?"  
  
"He wasn't half bad," Pablo answered. "But his play was better in the first game than in the second. I don't know if it was nerves the second match or overconfidence the first."  
  
Roger shook his head. "I think it was all the difference having to play Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Chambers just wasn't ready for that greasy lot. But we've got the whole year for him to get ready. Do you think he can do it?"  
  
"No doubts," Pablo nodded. "And, Rog, I'm sorry about this."  
  
"Well, what your parents don't know, eh? I want to see you at practices, and be ready as a Reserve. And bring your marks up; I won't be around next year to keep you on your toes."  
  
"Fair enough; thanks." Pablo went upstairs to his dormitory, leaving Cho anmd Roger alone in the Common Room.  
  
Roger looked steadily at Cho. "Truth, now; are you up for the season?"  
  
"Truth? I'll have to tell you tomorrow. Right now, I don't know. It's so long since I've been on a broom for any reason."  
  
"Not good enough. You're going to have to be serious and commit to this year before I let you back on the team."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean--commit? When haven't I been serious? Have you ever seen me skive off of a practice?" Cho was on her feet and shouting at Roger. "I have ALWAYS given maximum effort as a Seeker, Roger Davies, and don't you forget that!"  
  
"Sorry, Cho, but I can't just take your word for it. There's been talk already of you dosing yourself with Cheering Charms--"  
  
"That was just on the train! Since then I haven't--"  
  
"And of what's been happening to you since then: the nightmares, the crying fits. Will you sit back down, please?" Cho hadn't realized that she was still pacing; she sat down. "Look, I'm not saying any of this to be mean. I can't imagine what you've gone through since the Tournament, and I don't think I'd want anyone to go through it. But you're too good a Seeker to lose to something like this. I'll put you on the Reserves for the year if this is going to get in the way. But I need you to stop and think about it, and tell me the truth. Tell me as the Seeker I know you are."  
  
Cho looked at Roger for a minute. She tried to keep any emotion at all off of her face, but Roger could tell she was going over the problem in her mind. When she spoke, it was in a detached manner. "If you want an answer this minute, I can't give you one. You'll have one by the weekend."  
  
Roger stood up, looming over Cho. "As long as I have one, then." He went up to his own dormitory.  
  
Cho stayed seated for another minute. She didn't move a muscle or make a sound, until she took a deep breath and muttered to herself, "To Hell with ritual, then." She got up and walked out of Ravenclaw House.   
  
xxx  
  
Nobody was in the school's Quidditch stadium, which had been restored after the Tri-Wizard Tournament. The giant hedges that turned the pitch into a maze were gone now, and the grass was as smooth as if it had never been disturbed. All that disturbed it now was Cho Chang, out on a rainy Thursday night with her Comet Two Sixty in one hand, and the Golden Snitch in the other.  
  
She'd expected to have to use the Alohomora Spell to break into Madam Hooch's office to get the Snitch, but it was unlocked. Hooch probably thought that nobody would bother anything on a night like this. Cho smiled to herself, thinking of one of the near-disasters that visited "Dangerous" Dai Llewellyn: the year he lost half of his body hair when hit by a bolt of lightning.  
  
Cho didn't give it a thought. If lightning were to strike me, she reasoned, it would have done so by now. The moment she thought it, she realizes it was absurd, but she didn't care. I have to find this out now!  
  
She threw the Snitch up into the rainy darkening sky as hard as she could, waited a count of ten, then mounted her broom and pushed off. At once she was back in her old routine without even thinking about it: scanning as best she could for some sign of the elusive Snitch. The entire sky was moving, filled with drizzling rain, yet she was looking for one different, tell-tale movement...  
  
There! Just below! In the time it took to think it, she'd closed the gap and came within inches of the Snitch before it zipped away. She followed it as best she could, but lost it in the gloom. So she rose up again, and, as she did so, saw the Snitch also rising, over to her left. She waited, then slid quickly left and grabbed the Snitch.  
  
Three more times she chased the Snitch around the stadium, flying for the first time in over a year, flying until she couldn't see a thing for the darkness. Still, she was able to spot the Snitch and close on it swiftly.  
  
It was there: her talent as a Seeker. It hadn't abandoned her.  
  
As she returned the Snitch to Madam Hooch's office, Cho smiled. It was all she could do to keep from laughing as she ran back to the castle.  
  
xxx  
  
By the time the Sixth Year Ravenclaws had Defense Against the Dark Arts--their last class on Friday afternoon--they'd all heard from the other students about what to expect from Dolores Jane Umbridge. They all knew that, while she had tried to make an example of Harry Potter and did not yet know whether she had succeeded or failed, her dominion over the students was no longer challenged.  
  
So it was with general surprise that, after she had assigned a period of silent reading, a voice interrupted: "Begging your pardon, Professor Umbridge."  
  
Umbridge looked up to see a Chinese girl with her hand raised, and the rest of the class staring at her.  
  
"Yes, Miss, er, Chang?"  
  
Cho stood up. "It doesn't seem sensible, ma'am, for us to read about protective spells and never try to use them. Particularly now, when He Who Must Not Be Named has returned."  
  
Umbridge looked down indulgently, as if Cho were a child describing an encounter with an imaginary playmate. "We've been talking with Mister Harry Potter, have we?"  
  
"No, ma'am. He told us what had happened last year, at the Tournament..."  
  
"Stop right there, Miss Chang." Umbridge rose from her desk and walked to the front of the class. "The Ministry has been investigating that unfortunate incident, and, while no conclusion has been announced yet, knowledgeable Aurors have ruled out any possible involvement of You Know Who."  
  
"They're wrong, then. Headmaster Dumbledore said so, too."  
  
"Wrong, are they, Miss Chang? Which is it, then: am I lying to you, or is the Ministry lying to me? I trust, by the way, that you have evidence to back up your claim."  
  
Cho had no evidence, and was sure that Umbridge knew it. Her face burning, she slipped back into her chair, her eyes staring at the desk top.  
  
"As for the Headmaster, far be it from me to criticize a wizard who, while quite powerful in his prime, seems to have picked up a few delusional notions lately. I'll say no more, and let the facts" (she stressed that word) "of his recent demotions speak for themselves. For now, you will do your reading."  
  
Cho looked down at the text, not seeing it at all through her burning eyes. She's right, Cho thought bitterly; I challenged her when I wasn't ready. I should have had proof, but the only one who has it has drawn detention for talking about it. Somehow, somehow, I will fight that woman. I will not let her keep torturing Harry Potter. And I will not let her and the Ministry bury Cedric as the victim of an accident!  
  
But by the end of the class, Cho still hadn't worked out in her mind how she would do any of this. Too angry to eat, she didn't bother going to the Great Hall. Instead, she walked swiftly to her dormitory, threw down her bookbag, and started writing a scroll home:  
  
"Dear Mummy and Daddy:  
  
Our Dark Arts professor is a joke!"  
  
She went on to list every rumour she'd heard of Umbridge, and described Harry's torture as graphically as she could. It took an hour, but, when she was done, she rolled up the scroll, tied it to Quan Yin's leg, and watched as she flew south toward London.  
  
The writing calmed Cho down; she realized, as she watched her owl fly away, that she was very hungry. She went down to the Great Hall, where students--so many of them mere children--were eating and talking and laughing. Cho watched and listened to it all as if it were quite new to her.  
  
That night, she dreamed that she was again in the Quidditch stadium. Again it was a rainy night, but she was there with Cedric, both of them on brooms. No matter how she tried to fly toward him, he flew faster and higher, until he vanished into the night sky.  
  
Cho awoke from the dream with a face wet with tears. It seemed to be about midnight; the others were asleep. Cho went to the lavatory, washed her face, then went back to bed.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 10, wherein a surprise waits for Cho in the Owlery. 


	10. The Owlery

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SIXTH YEAR  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
10. The Owlery  
  
Cho awoke Saturday morning, lazily opened her bed-curtains, and smiled peacefully as she saw the sun lighting up the grounds through the window next to her writing-desk. The rain was finally over, and she could--  
  
"DAMN! DAMN AND BLAST!"  
  
She jumped out of the bed and picked up the parcel on her desk. Today was her mother's birthday, and she'd meant to send the parcel--her mother's present--last night along with the letter. But, in her anger at Umbridge, she'd forgotten all about it!  
  
A quick look at the window again; Quan Yin wasn't back yet. Should she wait and then make her owl go all the way back with the parcel? That would be cruel to Quan Yin; besides, who knew when she'd return? If the owl was late, her mother might not get her present until after her birthday.  
  
There was nothing else to do. Cho dashed off a quick note to her mother:  
  
"Dear Mummy,  
  
Sorry I didn't send these with yesterday's letter. But some of the things happening here had me so confused and upset, I simply forgot. Here's hoping that these Dutch tulip bulbs (which I bought in Amsterdam when you weren't looking) will grow into flowers that sing as fine as they look.  
  
Love, Cho"  
  
Then she slipped her robes on over her nightgown, put on slippers and rushed out to the Owlery. She didn't mind using a school owl; she just preferred her own.  
  
As she climbed the tower steps she kept replaying the events of the past week. She'd been right to worry that her bursts of emotion would alienate some of her friends. Diana Fairweather was already much cooler toward her. Jan seemed equivocal, which wasn't a good sign. Raina was friendly, but even she was a little distant at times now. She could only count Marietta as being truly in her corner. But then she had to wonder: how much of this am I doing to myself? I know I need company sometimes, probably most times, but sometimes I WANT to be alone. Is that such a bad thing?  
  
She was still trying to analyze her situation when she reached the Owlery door, and went inside without even thinking about it. She hardly bothered to look inside; before breakfast on a Saturday was much too early for most of the students to be up and mailing anything.  
  
"Hi."  
  
She literally jumped, startled by the unexpected voice.  
  
Harry.  
  
He was leaning against one of the windows. Maybe he'd just sent an owl himself. Or maybe he just wanted to be alone too.  
  
"Oh ... hi." That was all she could think to say for a second or two; the surprise of seeing him had stopped her cold. But now she felt nervous, as if she were intruding on him, and had to justify it. "I didn't think anyone would be up here this early. I only remembered five minutes ago, it's my mum's birthday." She raised the box of bulbs just an inch.  
  
"Right." Harry looked as surprised and confused as Cho felt, which helped Cho move. She started walking around the long single room that was the Owlery, looking for a suitably strong bird.  
  
She glanced back at Harry, who nodded toward the window and said, "Nice day."  
  
Always a Seeker, Cho thought, smiling to herself. We have that in common as well. "Yeah, good Quidditch conditions," she said aloud, looking for a suitable owl and desperately trying not to look at him. She wasn't at all sure of what she should say about her flying in the stadium Thursday night, and decided to say nothing at all; he was still an opposing Seeker, after all. "I haven't been out all week, have you?"  
  
"No."  
  
She decided on a large barn owl that looked up to making a long trip with a package. She held out her arm; the owl considered her for a minute, then glided off of its perch and landed on Cho's arm.  
  
"Hey," she said, trying to sound casual, "has Gryffindor got a new Keeper yet?" She cursed herself the instant she said it; he'll think all I want to do is spy on the Quidditch team!  
  
But Harry didn't seem to think the question was improper. "Yeah. It's my friend Ron Weasley; d'you know him?"  
  
The one you're almost always with? The one you saved in the Second Task? The one who tried to pick a fight with me a few days ago?? Why should I know him?! Part of Cho wanted to shout those words at Harry; instead, she focused on trying to tie the parcel to the owl's leg--not an easy thing to do one-handed, even after years of practice--and tried to keep her voice as cool and detached as possible: "The Tornado-hater?" She waited another second, then asked, with a bit of anxiety in her voice, "Is he any good?"  
  
"Yeah, I think so. I didn't see his tryout, though. I was in detention."  
  
That brought everything back into focus as she turned to look at Harry, leaving the parcel half-tied to the owl's leg. She remembered what Padma had said about Harry's hand, what Vincent has read about the Iron Quill--and the dream. Despite being a year older than Harry, she still had to look up to see Harry's vivid green eyes.  
  
"That Umbridge woman's foul," she whispered, as if she were afraid that one of the owls might carry her words back to the professor. "Putting you in detention just because you told the truth about how..." She tried to say the name; she couldn't. "How..." She knew that if she said his name now, she'd burst into tears again and she did NOT want that, not now, not when she was finally alone with Harry. It was all she could do to force her emotion back down her throat. "...how he died." He had a bit of a confused look; he must be wondering how I knew aboiut the argument, she thought. "Everyone heard about it; it was all over the school." That's all fine, Cho scolded herself, but tell him how YOU feel! Cho waited another second, then said, again in a low voice, as if this too would be a crime in Umbridge's eyes: "You were really brave standing up to her like that."  
  
They stood there, for a few seconds, maybe for a minute or more--Cho lost all track of time. She looked at Harry, waiting for him to do something, trying to think of what to do if he didn't do anything, and not entirely sure why they needed to do anything apart from look into each other's eyes all day long...  
  
BANG! "AHA!"  
  
The nature of their job--trying to clean up after hundreds of youngsters and teenagers for ten months out of the year--has soured almost every Hogwarts caretaker against students, and the students usually hated the caretaker right back, regardless of the century or the Headmaster. But it's doubtful that any student ever hated any caretaker more than Cho Chang hated Argus Filch at that moment.  
  
Filch moved toward Harry in a towering rage; he didn't seem to notice that Cho was there at all. "I've had a tip-off that you are intending to place a massive order for Dungbombs."  
  
What??  
  
"Who told you I was ordering Dungbombs?" Harry said, folding his arms and trying to look strong and defiant.  
  
"I have my sources. Now, hand over whatever it is you're sending."  
  
"I can't. It's gone." Harry seemed calmer, which only made Filch more furious.  
  
"Gone?"  
  
"Gone."  
  
"How do I know you haven't got it in your pocket?" Filch eyed Harry, and his fingers twitched as if he meant to search Harry's robes, permission or not.  
  
Harry gave a slight glance back out the window, and seemed to grow more nervous. "Because--"  
  
Cho interrupted: "I saw him send it!"  
  
Filch in a rage was an unnerving spectacle even for some Seventh Years, but Cho kept her own anger focused on this--this creature who dared to accuse Harry Potter!  
  
"You saw him?"  
  
"That's right; I saw him."  
  
They glared at each other another minute, watched by Harry and the owl. Then Filch suddenly turned and strode angrily back to the door. He turned back to Harry. "If I get so much as a whiff of a Dungbomb..." He left the sentence unfinished and exited the Owlery, noisily descending the staircase. He'd left the door ajar, for his cat, Mrs. Norris, had followed him in; now, with an appraising look fully as sinister as Filch's, the cat also left.  
  
Harry and Cho both breathed a sigh of relief. They again looked into each other's eyes, but the moment had passed; Cho felt extremely self-conscious as she turned her attention to the owl and finished tying on the parcel for her mother.  
  
She had almost calmed down when Harry spoke. "Thanks."  
  
Cho didn't turn to Harry yet, because she could tell she was still blushing. "No problem." She finished up tying the parcel, and only then turned to Harry. "You weren't ordering Dungbombs, were you?"  
  
"No," Harry shook his head.  
  
Cho walked over to the same window Harry had been leaning against. "I wonder why he thought you were, then." Harry simply shrugged his shoulders. As Cho watched the owl take off on its flight to Diagon Alley, she wondered; could it have been Umbridge? Could she have spies here too? More likely it was Malfoy, abusing his Prefect powers and trying to set Harry up...  
  
Harry! She'd forgotten he was there! He was still standing there, waiting for her. They left the Owlery together and started down the long staircase. Cho wondered if Harry was thinking what she was thinking: how strange it was to be walking side by side with Ha Li Bo Te, and her with her robes thrown on over her nightclothes--and yet it felt like the most natural thing in the world.  
  
At the foot of the stairs was a corridor leading to the West Wing, the location of Ravenclaw House. Cho wasn't supposed to tell Harry where her House was, any more than he could have told Cho where Gryffindor was. Cho simply nodded at the corridor and said, "I'm going this way." Silence from Harry. "Well, I'll..." Still nothing. "I'll see you around, Harry."  
  
"Yeah; see you."  
  
Finally; a spark of life! Cho smiled, turned and walked toward Ravenclaw House. Along the way all she could think was, That wasn't too bad. That wasn't too bad at all.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 11, wherein Cho realizes that too many people support the Ministry of Magic for all the wrong reasons. 


	11. Your Only Option

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SIXTH YEAR  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
11. Your Only Option  
  
A/N: OotP went into greater detail about the Ravenclaw Quidditch team than any of the previous books; as a result, some of my Original Characters from "Or Die Trying" will have to be dismissed, modified or otherwise accounted for. In this case, the Reserve Chaser formerly named Leigh Caporeale is now named Torrance "Torture" Chambers.  
  
xxx  
  
Sunday morning was everything Cho had hoped it would be. The sun shone brightly, the dampness of the rain had totally dried up, the grass of the pitch was firm and springy underfoot as the Ravenclaw team assembled after breakfast for its practice. Both Regulars and Reserves watched and waited as Roger Davies made a few notes on a scroll.  
  
"Right," said Roger, noticing that his team had arrived. "Here's what I've decided. Bradley and Chambers are the new Chasers."  
  
Cho nodded. The choices were good ones. Torrance Chambers had played two years earlier, when Cho had been laid up and Molina had had to play Seeker. Chambers knew how to work with Roger and against the opposing side. He was known in Ravenclaw House as "Torture" Chambers, but, except for his hard-charging performance on the pitch, was soft-spoken and even-tempered. Cho had asked about his nickname one time; he had just smiled and said, "I guess they didn't like to waste a good joke."  
  
Preston Bradley, like Chambers, was a Fourth Year, but had developed a unique style during his years of practice. He was a cerebral player, befitting Ravenclaw House; he seemed to study the play, no matter how fast and aggressive it was. All of his movements, whether tossing the Quaffle himself or passing it to others, were precise and usually accurate. Combined with Roger's style of play, which was increasingly reckless but still under control, the Chasers would be a formidable offensive unit.  
  
"I hope I'm right about a Keeper," Roger went on, "because I'm going with Millbanks."  
  
Hugo Millbanks was a Third Year, but he'd shown surprising natural talent. He rode his Cleansweep casually, even sleepily, but he had a remarkable reach. If he couldn't actually stop the Quaffle, he could at least deflect it and stop it going in. He was a fine choice.  
  
The practice itself was nearly flawless. Everybody seemed to be on top of their game. The Chasers had perfect control of the ball; the Beaters, who pulled their Bludgers rather than do any damage to their own side, were still able to disrupt things; Millbanks proved to be a better Keeper than even the rumours had had it. And Cho Chang found the Snitch within the first five minutes, and repeatedly caught it and let it go rather than interfere with the others' practice sessions.  
  
Roger finally called a halt at noon. "Great practice, everyone," he gushed. "I didn't think it would all pull together so well after a year off. I think we've got a championship team again."  
  
Jenkins spoke up: "Do you know what's the first match?"  
  
"Gryffindor and Slytherin. Gives us that much more time to get ready. Now, don't let what I just said go to your heads. We're not perfect yet, but we can be by December. So; next Sunday morning, then."  
  
"Roger."  
  
This time Cho had stayed behind without Roger asking. "Was that satisfactory?" she asked with a bit of an edge to her voice.  
  
"Better than that," Roger smiled. "Sorry I ever doubted you. It's just that, after, well ... I was worried."  
  
"That's sweet of you, Rog," Cho smiled in return. "But I had to get back on the pitch to feel like myself. I think it'll be a much better year."  
  
Roger nodded, and Cho left the stadium. She was smiling because of the Quidditch practice, and because of her meeting Harry Potter in the Owlery. The year might turn out well after all.  
  
xxx  
  
She began to doubt all that again that evening at dinner. Cho sat away from the others at first, then realized that Jan Nugginbridge had taken a seat next to her.  
  
Jan didn't even look at Cho as she helped herself to lamb stew. "Lissen, Cho, I've been a right silly sausage about everything this week. I din't mean ter cut yer loose an' all."  
  
"I'm sorry, too, Jan," Cho sighed. "I didn't think I'd disturb you all so much. Does the soundproofing spell help?"  
  
"Yeh, loads. But, how long will this here go on?"  
  
"I wish I knew. I still miss him so."  
  
"Yeh. Well, I'd love teh help yeh out, but I don' think I can now. Not after Friday."  
  
"What about Friday?"  
  
"Tha' stunt yeh pulled talkin' back ter Umbridge."  
  
"You don't mean to say that you agree with--"  
  
"Look, Cho, she ain' jest another teacher. High up in the Ministry, she is, an' no good comes of goin' against the Ministry."  
  
Once again, Cho had lost her appetite. "Sorry you feel that way, but the way she just ignored what happened to Cedric, I--I couldn't let that pass."  
  
"Tha's all right, then, as long as it's outta yer system, and yeh hol' yer tongue."  
  
Cho's voice dropped to a whisper, so that only Jan could hear the bitterness in it. "I'm sorry, but Cedric will never be 'out of my system', and I will be the one to say whether I hold my tongue! Excuse me." Cho stood up suddenly and left the Great Hall.  
  
Emotion had been building up in her, and she didn't think she could get all the way to the West Wing and Ravenclaw House before she exploded. She rushed into the nearest girls' lavatory instead, locked herself into one of the stalls, sat on the toilet and let go of the little control she still had over her emotions. She sobbed and sobbed for ten minutes, not caring if anyone came in and heard her or not.  
  
When she finally stopped and dried her eyes, the first thing she saw when she left the stall was Moaning Myrtle. She was floating at one of the sinks, so that it poked out through her ghostly stomach.  
  
"It won't do you any good in the long run, you know." Myrtle said in her thin, nasal, ghostly voice. "I mean, I cried about my lot in life all the time I was alive, and it never got me anything."  
  
"I'm different, then," Cho said as she washed up at the sink next to Myrtle. "I'm not trying to cry for anything, and certainly not for myself. But I know Cedric is never coming back."  
  
"Don't be too sure," Myrtle smirked. "Lots of strange things happen in the world. I just heard a strange little thing about Umbridge, for example."  
  
"I couldn't care less about Umbridge."  
  
"But you should. You should care more about Umbridge, if you know what your skin's worth." But then the ghost sighed, as well as a ghost can, considering ghosts can't draw breath. "But then, what do I know? Just another miserable little ghost wandering around the halls of Hogwarts; what possible interesting crumbs could I pick up?"  
  
She was fishing for either a conversation or a fight with Cho, who didn't feel like having either. "Sorry, Myrtle. I have to go now." And she took off before Myrtle could say another word.  
  
On her way back to Ravenclaw, she turned it all around in her mind. Who did Jan think she was, to warn Cho off of talking about Umbridge? Even if she did it out of concern, why was she concerned? What could Umbridge possibly do to Cho, whether she spoke up in class or not? But then she remembered Saturday morning, and the spider web-like writing on the back of Harry Potter's hand. No, there was something definitely wrong with the woman; no teacher at Hogwarts had resorted to discipline by torture in centuries. The question really wasn't why Cho was speaking up about Umbridge, but why others weren't.  
  
She was still turning these thoughts around in her head when she found herself in the Common Room. She remembered one assignment she still hadn't finished: Professor Grubbly-Plank had assigned essays on Demiguises. She walked up to her dormitory, and, as she opened the door, she heard Marietta Edgecombe telling the other girls: "...just got off the Floo with mummy, and..." She stopped dead as soon as she saw Cho.  
  
Cho didn't say a word; she walked to her writing desk, took ink, a quill, scrolls and the books she needed, and walked back down to the Common Room. She worked on the paper until after midnight, when her head began to nod--  
  
She had the Umbridge dream again, except that this time, she was being tortured instead of Harry. Cho was strapped onto the infernal machine, naked and face down, but she was able to get a look around the edge of the pit. She saw Snape and Malfoy, with identical sneers on their faces; she saw Harry, unable to do anything to help her, with tears pouring down his cheeks; she saw her dormitory mates and the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, talking nervously among themselves, surrounded by Dementors and unable to make a move as the machine rumbled to life, and Cho screamed as the machine's blades began to carve into her back--  
  
and she awoke in the Common Room. She carried everything back up stairs, resolving to write the final lines of the essay in the morning.  
  
xxx  
  
When Cho awoke from a dreamless sleep in the morning, she had barely enough time to finish the Demiguise essay before breakfast. She gathered her books for the morning, donned her robes and went to the Great Hall without saying a word to her dorm mates.  
  
Halfway through her oatmeal porridge, the mail owls arrived, including Quan Yin with a letter from her family. Cho noted immediately that this letter was different: it was written by her father, who never wrote to her.  
  
"Dear Cho,  
  
Your mother was very pleased to receive the gift of bulbs, and she'll respond to you in her own way and in her own time. For now, I must address another matter: the letter which preceded the gift of the bulbs.  
  
I may have spoken before you left for school of the possibility of my obtaining a contract with the Ministry of Magic. This past Friday afternoon, after the latest in a series of meetings with someone from the Magical Creatures division of the Ministry, I am pleased to say that I have secured such a contract. The Ministry must keep examples of certain species for various research purposes, and our shop is now under contract to provide for the special diets of creatures ranging from flobberworms to dragons. This will mean more work for your mother and me (and for you, when you are on vacation), but also more Galleons in the bank to secure our futures and ease our circumstances in the present.  
  
There is one regret attached to the contract. I have had to negotiate with Mr. Amos Diggory, whom you blame in part for his son's death. Whether this is true or not, he is my contact at the Ministry, and will have to come to the shoppe from time to time. I expect you, if you are there when he comes, to treat him civilly, as you would any other guest."  
  
Cho felt as if she'd been stabbed in the heart with a blade of ice. How could you, she thought; how could you ask me to be civil toward him? Amos Diggory had indeed railed at his own son about his choice of girlfriends, dismissing Cho as a "squinty-eyed little alien". She would like nothing better than to pay him back in his own coin... She kept reading:  
  
"Far more disturbing is your disrespectful attitude toward Dolores Umbridge. Not only is she your professor, she is still a Special Under-Secretary at the Ministry. Even though my contract is with the Magical Creatures division, it is still subject to her approval. She has been given a great deal of power at the Ministry, is extremely close to Fudge, and our family could well feel the repercussions if your feelings about her became too loudly voiced. Whether you like it or not, your only option at the moment is to keep your head down and try not to do anything that would risk this contract."  
  
You too? How dare you lecture me about Umbridge?! She tossed the letter aside before she'd finished reading it, but in doing so a discarded copy of the Daily Prophet caught her eye. There she was, on the front page, her toad-like eyes staring out at the reader under the headline:  
  
Dolores Umbridge Appointed First-Ever "High Inquisitor"  
  
Cho sat numb, her mind absorbing the implications of this news. She almost forgot about her first class.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 12, wherein a joyless Sixth Year for Cho (Quidditch excepted) is altered by an unusual invitation. 


	12. Another Option

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SIXTH YEAR  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
12. Another Option  
  
For the next month, things went on like that for Cho. Classes were uninteresting, but she especially loathed Umbridge and dreaded Defense Against the Dark Arts. She was frustrated about the fact that the rest of her year in Ravenclaw House disliked Umbridge and her teaching methods as much as she did, but nobody would say anything against her. Umbridge would sit watching at her desk, the students would sit reading at theirs; the classroom would be as silent as a graveyard.  
  
And maybe that was why she could never think of the text she was supposed to be reading, or anything else in that class but Cedric. They weren't even pleasant memories of their few short months in love. She thought instead about the Third Task, of Cedric's last hour on earth, of where he and Harry Potter might have vanished to, of what might have happened, of whether any of it could have been prevented-- She spent the periods with head bowed down, Slinkhard's book soaking up her tears.  
  
She blamed Umbridge for all this. Why couldn't she teach a proper class, out of a proper textbook? Why couldn't they practice any really useful spells? And why won't the rest of them say anything?!  
  
Cho felt this especially, because she still chafed under the additional weight of her parents. At the end of September, she received a scroll from her mother:  
  
"I've been meaning to thank you for the lovely tulip bulbs. However, in this case you should have paid more attention to the word 'variegated' on the box; it didn't refer only to their colour. I had to give half of the tulips away, because they yodeled rather than sang. But the remaining blooms are quite lovely, in sight and in sound, as you will see and hear when you come home.  
  
For now, I must take this opportunity to remind you to step carefully through Hogwarts this year, as long as Dolores Umbridge is there. She is there, after all, doing the work of the Ministry, with whom your father has a business relationship. It would reflect poorly on your upbringing to show any disrespect, even to a third party who might report back to Umbridge. This isn't merely about your sixth year at Hogwarts; this is advice which will stand you in good stead as you go through life. Authority may be mistaken, and may even be wrong, but it is still authority, and must be recognized as such..."  
  
Cho crumpled up the scroll, threw it onto the floor of her dormitory room, and drew out her wand, pointing it at the crumpled scroll.  
  
"Incendio!"   
  
At once the scroll burst into flames. However, it burned for minutes without being consumed. Cho was about to repeat the spell when Marietta walked into the room.  
  
"Don't bother, Cho. You did it right, I'm sure. That's another one from your mother, isn't it?" Cho nodded, her cheeks burning. "Well, don't you think she figured things out by now?"  
  
Cho, her cheeks still burning with shame, muttered, "Finite Incantatem." The flame went out, leaving only a new set of words on the back of the scroll where none had been before.  
  
"Surely, my little Horse, you didn't expect to treat my mail with such disrespect without my learning about it? This is precisely what I meant; you must learn to accept authority from those who are above you, whether you agree or not."  
  
This time, Cho put the crumpled scroll into the stove in the center of the room. Perhaps it would still be there after the winter. If the scroll was burned to ashes, fine--if she simply forgot it was there, that would be fine too.  
  
But Cho couldn't forget, and her mother was only one of too many memories, too many intrusions. Sometimes class assignments would push the memories aside briefly, but then they would come rushing back, as if they resented being ignored and pushed aside. It was a constant wrestling match, even after one month, and there were nine more months to go.  
  
Sunday mornings was the only time Cho felt like herself, because of practice. In the stadium, she managed to focus her attention to a degree that was getting more and more difficult in Hogwarts itself. The Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall reminded her of Cedric; the hospital wing, which she had to pass every day going to and from her House, reminded her of Cedric. And Herbology was a severe test, since she was always tempted to approach the brick wall behind the Greenhouses; tempted to use her wand to try to re-enter the secret garden where she had spent so much time with Cedric. She never tried to enter, but each class in the Greenhouses was a temptation.  
  
Only in Quidditch could she be free of all that, if only for a few hours. She could reduce her troubles, reduce her entire world, to the size of a winged walnut, and think only about the Golden Snitch. But, as soon as practice ended, even as she was in the changing room, she would recall Cedric in his own Seeker robes and start crying all over again.  
  
xxx  
  
Another avenue for Cho opened up when and where she least expected it to open. It was the first Friday in October, and she had just left the last class of the day. She now referred to it simply as "that class"; she couldn't even bring herself to say the word "Defense", since the class had nothing to do with defending oneself against anything at all. She had sat quietly with the rest of her year, weeping for Cedric yet again instead of reading Slinkhard. When the class was over, she went back up to her dormitory, threw her bookbag next to her desk, then went down to dinner, although after Umbridge's class Cho usually had no appetite.  
  
The same thing happened this Friday, only it was worse. She stopped at the entrance to the Great Hall, listened to the other students eating and chatting and laughing--LAUGHING--and this brought her up short. How can they, she thought; how can they sit there enjoying themselves like that? Cedric is dead and Voldemort is alive and we're learning absolutely nothing about how to defend ourselves and they're acting as if nothing is wrong and it's all wrong, all of it--  
  
Cho ran to the girls' toilet near the Great Hall, locked herself in one of the stalls, and let the tears come, as they had so many times since June. Once again, she was sorry she had ever decided to return to Hogwarts Academy.  
  
Cho was in the stall for about fifteen minutes before she decided to come out. Usually, Moaning Myrtle would either be waiting for her or would get impatient and come through the stall door. Nothing entertained Moaning Myrtle so much as another girl's misery, and she seemed to enjoy Cho's distress, even if she said recently that Cho was just "putting on the same old show, week after week."  
  
As Cho opened the stall door, she saw someone waiting for her; it wasn't Myrtle.  
  
"I don't believe we've been introduced," the student began, unconsciously straightening her robes so that her Prefects badge was clearly visible.  
  
"No need," Cho said, sniffling just a bit. "I remember you from ... from the Tournament. Granger, isn't it?"  
  
Hermione nodded, and seemed to be relieved that one bit of business had been taken care of. "There's something I would like to ask you. The thing is, well, there are some of us who, well, we're really not satisfied with the way Defense Against the Dark Arts is being taught this year." Cho nodded, not saying anything yet. "Yes, well; there are a number of us, as I said, and we're talking about doing something about that, maybe getting a study group together to learn the spells on our own."  
  
Cho knew Granger's reputation around Hogwarts, as a know-all who swallowed textbooks whole and had mastered a great number of spells, although she couldn't fly a broom if her life depended on it. "Will you be teaching it, then?"  
  
"Oh, I'm nowhere near good enough to teach spells like that. I, erm, that is, we were thinking of having Harry Potter do the teaching."  
  
No sooner had Hermione said it than Cho realized that this was the answer. Private lessons, taught by the only student who could teach such lessons. "Where and when?"  
  
"Well, tomorrow is a Hogsmeade day, you know. We were thinking of having a get-together in the village. Do you know the Hog's Head?" Cho knew where the pub was; she'd never had reason to set foot in it. But she nodded. "Well, then, if you could stop by at the beginning of the visit. And maybe bring a friend; someone you can trust."  
  
Cho nodded again, but more happily than she had before.  
  
"Yes, well, tomorrow, then." Hermione left the toilet.  
  
Cho left a minute later; unlike her mood when she came in, she was now almost too excited to think.  
  
xxx  
  
"Bring a friend; someone you can trust." Cho didn't realize how hard that would be until she got back to the Great Hall. Dinner was almost over; she only had time and appetite for some stew. Many of the students had already gone to the library or their dorms.  
  
Many but not all. As Cho hastily tucked into her dinner, she heard a voice behind her, dripping with false concern: "Don't eat too fast, Miss Chang. You'll get sick to your stomach and that's not pleasant. I should know; you make me sick to my stomach."  
  
Draco Malfoy. Cho had been trying to avoid meeting up with him this year. Not because she was afraid of him, but because of his Prefects badge. He now had the power to make her life miserable, and she wasn't going to give him a chance to do so.  
  
Cho slowed down her eating, staring straight ahead, trying not to look at this ghost of a boy who tried to push his face in front of hers.  
  
"Funny how things change, isn't it? I'm sure you've wished me dead for all these years, and it's your poor fool Cedric who dies instead." His voice dropped to a whisper. "If it's any consolation, he won't be alone for long. Things are starting to happen, and some of the fools here will pay the price for their foolishness."  
  
Don't say anything, Cho told herself. Don't look at him. Don't say anything.  
  
"Umbridge has plans for Hogwarts; of course, there are others who have plans for Umbridge. For now, she's a useful fool. What do you say; don't you think she's a fool?"  
  
Don't answer, Cho told herself over and over. He'll report me if I agree, he'll report me if I disagree. Can he report me for keeping silent?  
  
Just then, Pansy Parkinson called to Draco. Cho was never so happy to hear that whiny, scratchy voice.  
  
"This year isn't over yet," Draco whispered to Cho as he turned to leave.  
  
xxx  
  
There was hardly anyone at the Ravenclaw table as Cho, her mood and appetite ruined, looked around. Those who were there were First- and Second-Year, and she hardly knew them at all. The Quidditch team was nowhere to be seen; not in the Great Hall, not in the Common Room.  
  
That didn't leave much choice. Cho would have to try her luck with the girls in her dormitory. Surely Raina would be willing to come along tomorrow; maybe Jan as well.  
  
The others were in the dorm as Cho entered. Raina was at her desk, writing a scroll home in flowing Arabic script. Cho watched for a minute, fascinated, and wondered if she was feeling what the others felt watching her when she wrote in Chinese to her family. When Raina came to a stop, Cho told her what Hermione had said.  
  
Raina stopped her. "Cho, I'm sorry, but I can't go to that meeting tomorrow. It's the Ministry, and my parents."  
  
"How do you mean?"  
  
"My dad says they've cut back severely on activities in International Magical Cooperation. I'm surprised your parents haven't spoken of it."  
  
"They haven't. They're doing business with Magical Creatures, though."  
  
"Lucky for them, then."  
  
"Besides, I didn't think you cared whether your father approved or not."  
  
"That's true, I used to be like that. But, this summer, after the, well, after what happened, they sat me down for a long talk. They said that England was getting dangerous; they even spoke of moving back to Iran once I was out of Hogwarts. It's just not a good time to be on the wrong side of the Ministry, and Umbridge is still the Ministry."  
  
Jan Nugginbridge was sitting on her bed, playing with Coriander, her Manx cat, by Levitating a stocking. Cho walked up to her, but Jan spoke up before Cho could say a word. "Yeh'd better save yer breath; I heard all that, an' I ain't goin'. I don' like Umbridge ennymore'n you, but I jes' don' want teh get involved in summat that might turn dicey later. Wait an' see; that's what I say."  
  
Cho smiled weakly, and turned to Diana Fairweather. She was already in bed, reading "The Once and Future King" for Muggle Studies. "Sorry, Cho, but you see what I'm up against." She held the thick book aloft. "That assignment on 'The Magical World in Muggle Literature' is going to be poisonous. I wasn't even planning to go to Hogsmeade."  
  
"Are you sure you can't? Just for an hour or so?"  
  
Diana sighed and put the book aside. "Listen, Cho, I didn't want to be this blunt about it. But we still don't know what happened to Libby Foggly..."  
  
"I TOLD you what happened!"  
  
"You told us some cock-and-a-bull about her parents being Death Eaters. Granted, nobody's seen or heard from the Fogglys since this summer, but that don't mean--"  
  
"Cho," Raina interrupted, "you told us, but you're the only one who's said anything about them. I mean, I'd be willing to believe you."  
  
Cho couldn't believe this. "But you don't, is that it?"  
  
Diana spoke up again. "My mum doesn't have anything to do with the Ministry, and my father's traveling on business. I don't want to get in on anything like this unless I talk to him first."  
  
Without another word, Cho threw herself fully clothed onto her own bed, drew the curtains and cried into her pillow. She couldn't remember ever feeling so betrayed.  
  
After a few minutes, the curtains opened. Marietta was standing there. "I'm a bit disappointed you didn't ask me."  
  
"I didn't think you'd want to go," Cho sniffled. "I mean, your mum works for the Ministry, and you're a Prefect."  
  
"Well, Potter's best friends are both Prefects, and they'll be there, won't they?"  
  
Cho had to stop and admit that this was true. And if Granger had a problem with Umbridge...  
  
"Besides," Marietta went on, "the Floo Network isn't exactly the inner circle of the Ministry of Magic. My mum has probably never met Fudge or Umbridge. Anyway, why can't I come along, just to keep you out of harm's way? I mean, just because there's talk of some lessons doesn't mean that it's going to happen."  
  
You're wrong, Cho thought. Those lessons are going to happen. But aloud, she smiled a watery smile at Marietta. "You're a good friend; thanks."  
  
"See you tomorrow, then," Marietta smiled in turn as she closed the bed curtains.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 13, wherein we see what happened to Cho and Marietta before and after the meeting. 


	13. A Hogsmeade Visit

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SIXTH YEAR  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
13. A Hogsmeade Visit  
  
Hogsmeade was such a forbidden, therefore exotic, place to the younger Hogwarts students, and such a break in the routine even for the older students, that on Hogsmeade days students usually rushed through breakfast, then rushed to line up to go.  
  
Cho Chang, however, deliberately held back, dawdling over breakfast, then fussing with her hair for half an hour after breakfast. She really couldn't help it; she was of two minds about going to Hogsmeade today.  
  
The last times she had gone to Hogsmeade, between the Yule Ball and the Third Task, it was in the company of Cedric Diggory. She wasn't sure how she'd react, what she'd remember. It was one thing to make a spectacle of herself in Hogwarts, where at least the students knew why she would freeze, choke up, burst into tears every other day or so even after a month back. That didn't mean that they approved. Marietta had had to lecture a couple of Ravenclaw Third-Years the other day for pairing Cho with Luna Lovegood, and laughing at "Loony and Moony".  
  
But Marietta's coming with Cho to Hogsmeade wasn't exactly a good thing either. Cho's other reason for going, after all, was the prospect of joining a special group of students, studying Defense Against the Dark Arts. With Harry Potter. She had been trying to chat up Harry since school started, but hadn't had any luck after the first week and their chance meeting in the Owlery. She had actually spent the next few Saturdays after that meeting rushing to the Owlery on Saturday mornings, hanging about just in case ... with no luck. Maybe she could get Harry away from Granger and Ron Weasley, and his sister Ginny, get him away from the other Gryffindors, just to ask a question or two about--  
  
"Cho! Stop dawdling or we'll be at the end of the line!"  
  
Cho bit her lip and, blushing, took a few swipes at her hair with her brush. She actually had been fussing far less with her hair since the Third Task, but apparently Marietta hadn't noticed.  
  
As if reading Cho's mind, she went on: "Not that I'm all that anxious to get to this meeting, mind you, but there are quite a few things I need to get done: Christmas shopping, replace my philtres, get some new quills..."  
  
Cho took a last stroke through her hair. "Come on, then." She grabbed the sleeve of Marietta's robe and almost dragged her down to the entrance to Hogwarts.  
  
There was already a line there, but not as long a line as Marietta had feared. Each student had to be checked against a list of those whose families had granted permission for their children to go to Hogwarts. Since this was a Saturday, McGonagall had apparently delegated the task of checking the list to Filch the caretaker. As Cho approached him, the dark scowl on his face seemed to grow darker. He apparently remembered her standing up to him in the Owlery. He seemed to sniff the air around her, as a dog would, before he wordlessly waved Cho and Marietta through.  
  
As they dashed down the stone steps into the cool but sunny October morning, Cho could see students all along the path to the station, most in groups of two and three. Up ahead, where the path took a bend and disappeared from sight, she saw three figures who might have been Harry and his friends. There was a Weasley there; the head of red hair was plainly visible.  
  
Marietta was chattering on about what she thought her mother would like as a Christmas present, but Cho wasn't really listening. She kept trying to push her memories into the background of her thoughts--memories of happier times in Hogsmeade, times with Cedric... But how could they ever have been happy times, since thinking of those days now made her want to scream...  
  
No! Stop that! she scolded herself. She wasn't being fair to Cedric or Marietta. This was supposed to be a fun afternoon, and maybe even an adventure, if what Granger had said was true...  
  
By this time, they were in sight of the train station. Once they crossed the tracks, they were in Hogsmeade. Some students--all Third-Years, judging by their youth and enthusiasm--raced past them to get to the town, as if simply setting foot onto the main street was magical. Cho and Marietta simply walked along.  
  
"Mummy usually finds everything she needs in Diagon Alley," Marietta was saying, "but, when you get right down to it, she doesn't need much. She might as well live at the Ministry, she spends so much time at the Network. I keep telling her that she needs a vacation, but she says that Fudge needs her expertise. I think Fudge needs to spend a few Galleons on hiring her a proper apprentice. Sometimes I think she wants me to just slip into the Network after Hogwarts, but that's certainly not what I want..."  
  
"Marietta," Cho interrupted. "That's it, isn't it?"  
  
Cho pointed down a side-street, which looked gloomy and uninviting despite the brilliant sunlight. She stared up at the gruesome sign of The Hog's Head and began to have second thoughts about this whole venture.  
  
"Cho! Marietta!"  
  
Both girls turned. It was Padma Patil, with her twin sister Parvati, also apparently heading toward the disreputable-looking inn.  
  
"So you heard about this too, then?" Parvati asked.  
  
Cho nodded. "Granger told me just the other day."  
  
"I'm not surprised," Parvati nodded. "Padma told me about you standing up to Umbridge the first week. Pity more of us haven't had the Quaffles to do it."  
  
Padma started giggling, as Marietta's eyes went wide and her face paled. "Personally, I don't care one way or another," Parvati went on. "It's just like another class with Binns; I just use the time to get caught up on homework for other classes. But we've got O.W.L.s later this year; they'll want us to do SOME kind of spell work, won't they?"  
  
Padma grabbed her sister's hand and pulled her toward the inn. "Come on, we've put this off long enough." She opened the door to the Hog's Head, and a vaguely familiar scent hit Cho: the smell of livestock. It reminded her of her trip to China with her parents, and their stay in a small community of witches and wizards in the Chinese countryside. Watching the Patil twins enter without hesitation and wondering what kind of animals might be in the inn, Cho nodded toward Marietta as they opened the door and stepped inside.  
  
xxx  
  
An hour later, they returned to the fresh autumnal chill of Hogsmeade. They walked back toward the main street, and were halfway there when Marietta spoke up. "Cho Chang, you are utterly shameless!"  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Cho asked even though she knew exactly what Marietta meant.  
  
"I mean that last little bit at the end. It took you two full minutes to do up your robes and cloak! It was so obvious, the way you were dawdling about like that."  
  
Cho blushed slightly. "Was it obvious, really?"  
  
"I suppose you'd miss it if you were a troll. And jumping into the conversation like that: 'Harry's flown against dragons' and 'Harry fought off Hagrid's Skrewts'--honestly!"  
  
"Well, it's all true!"  
  
"It was hardly your job to tell the truth. We were just supposed to listen to their idea for a Dark Arts Defense study group. To tell the truth, I don't fancy it."  
  
"Why not? We'll be studying the same spells Hogwarts taught last year and for centuries before that."  
  
"It's not the same-- Look, can we argue the toss in the Three Broomsticks over some hot pumpkin cider? I just want to get that smell out of my nose."  
  
As the two ducked into the far cleaner, more welcoming Three Broomsticks, they had to battle lines of students filing in and out of Madam Rosmerta's establishment. They found a small table for two in a far corner, and took their drinks from the bar to the table.  
  
Marietta had hardly sat down when she started in again. "Hogwarts isn't the same anymore because of Umbridge. You can't deny that she's there because the Ministry wants her there."  
  
Cho took a sip. "I don't think the Ministry knows what it wants. No offense to your mother; it's Fudge who's the problem. I mean, he acts as if Dumbledore hadn't said a word about, about..."  
  
"No need to say it," Marietta interrupted. "But the Daily Prophet's been on about Potter being off his chump all summer..."  
  
"Then answer me this, Marietta Edgecombe: we've both watched Harry for the past four years. Did he ever seem off his chump to you?"  
  
"Well, considering he was raised a Muggle--"  
  
"That's not an answer! Has he ever acted like Trelawney, say, or Luna Lovegood?"  
  
"But they're both witches!"  
  
"Exactly!" Cho set her mug down loudly on the small table. "So it's not about Muggle versus wizarding. Now, has Potter been sensible or not?"  
  
"Well, for the most part, I guess I'd have to say sensible, but the Ministry--"  
  
"Hang the Ministry! They're miles away!"  
  
"Which is why they put Umbridge here! They want to know what's going on here, and Dumbledore probably doesn't tell them half of what happens. I tell you, Umbridge presided over a hearing on Harry Potter this summer; he came within a Puffskein's whisker of being expelled. Dumbledore saved his hide with some doubletalk about how Harry hadn't really committed a crime."  
  
"What crime?"  
  
"Ah. Well, they talked about all that at the Hog's Head just now, but Bones made it sound like two stories instead of one. Anyway, Harry was living with his Muggle relatives when he was attacked by a couple of Dementors." Cho's face went chalk-white. "Don't upset yourself," Marietta quickly added. "He's fine, as you can see. Of course, maybe there were no Dementors."  
  
"But what was Harry accused of?"  
  
"Underage magic."  
  
"But we all slip up now and again."  
  
"Not like this. My mum said that he summoned a Patronus to chase off the Dementors."  
  
"Is that what Bones was talking about?" Marietta nodded. Cho stared at Marietta for a few seconds, then looked into space. "Patronus," she said, barely above a whisper.  
  
"Look, maybe I should just leave you to your daydreaming..."  
  
"I'm sorry, Marietta, but it's all been quite a lot to think about. You will come with me to the classes, won't you?"  
  
"Classes? I'm sorry I even signed that paper."  
  
"But what's the harm in a study group?"  
  
"It's a study group that's sworn not to reveal what's going on to Umbridge!"  
  
"Serves her right, then, stopping us studying the real spells."  
  
Marietta sighed as she set down her now-empty mug and smiled ruefully at Cho. "Looks like I'll have to go to the next meeting, if only to rescue you from yourself if I need to."  
  
"I don't think I'll need rescuing, thank you. I trust Harry."  
  
"Looks to me like you do more than trust him, you know."  
  
"I'm sure I don't know." Cho pretended to be insulted, but she was smiling at her friend the Prefect.  
  
"All right, enough of that for today. I'm sure Scrivenshaft's is all out of quills by now; let's go find out!"  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 14, wherein Cho attends a practice, listens to the talk, reads a notice, and discovers a classroom she never knew about. 


	14. Lows and Highs

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SIXTH YEAR  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG-13 (language)  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
14. Lows and Highs  
  
The air was filled with the clatter of hundreds of conversations. From where she stood, Cho couldn't see who was talking. She was, after all, standing on the Quidditch pitch on a warm June night. The Third Task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament had just been announced:  
  
"On my whistle, Cho and Cedric!"  
  
What?!  
  
Cho looked down at herself; she was wearing the same robes she wore to the Yule Ball: pale blue robes with a short string of pearls at her throat. But she didn't have her wand at the ready during the Yule Ball. And Cedric-- Cedric wasn't wearing the soft grey Ball robes ... a grey as soft as his eyes ... He wore the robes he wore during the Third Task.  
  
Cho turned to him and tried to speak, tried to tell Cedric to give up the Tournament, go back to Hogwarts-- But no sounds came from her mouth.  
  
"THREE!"  
  
Bagman seemed absolutely absurd, yelling a number into the night sky.  
  
"TWO!"  
  
It was starting: Cedric Diggory's last hour on earth, and nobody else knew it... Why couldn't she speak?!  
  
"ONE!"  
  
She turned to Cedric, who stared straight ahead into the mouth of the maze, waiting like a great green dragon to devour anyone who approached...  
  
Bagman blew on his whistle, and Cedric dashed forward, straight toward the maze.  
  
Cho ran, too, trying to catch up with Cedric. She had to warn him, or maybe she could be with him this time, save his life-- But would he care? They had argued so terribly a few hours earlier--  
  
"Lumos."  
  
Cedric had lit his wand. Cho didn't bother about her wand; she followed the light of Cedric's wand into the maze for about fifty yards. Then, the wand blinked out as he ducked around a corner.  
  
Cho got to the spot, but it was a fork, and Cedric's light had blinked out so quickly that she couldn't tell if he'd gone left or right. She turned to the left, but there were more turns in the path now, and she couldn't see a sign of Cedric's wand. She tried to turn back, but the maze itself seemed to keep stopping her. However she turned, she kept running into dead ends.  
  
I have to get through this, she thought, still unable to say a word. I can't just let him go like this. No matter what he thinks of me, I can't just let him die!  
  
No sooner had the thought passed through her mind than she found herself in a great clear space at the heart of the maze. The Tri-Wizard Cup, which had earlier served as the Goblet of Fire to choose the Champions, stood on a pedestal on a raised dais just a few yards away. On the other side of the dais, Cedric emerged unharmed from the maze, looking straight at the Cup--and at Cho.  
  
They both started running toward the Cup, toward each other--  
  
Cho was knocked to the ground halfway to the cup. She landed on her face, but some instinct told her to roll onto her back. No sooner had she done so than the ground where she had been was raked by a gigantic set of claws sticking out of a yellow-brown paw as big as Cho's whole body. She looked up, and saw at once that she had been knocked over by a sphinx.  
  
Cho brought her wand up, and tried to speak, now that her life depended on it. But the word "Stupefy!" stuck in her throat. She knew that she would be killed if she couldn't Stun the sphinx; but she couldn't. She never could Stun anything, and certainly not a sphinx whose face bore such a resemblance to her mother's.  
  
In a deep, un-motherly growl, the sphinx said one word to Cho: "Watch!"  
  
Cho looked back to Cedric, who was reaching out for the Cup. As she watched, a dark shadow rose up behind Cedric, standing tall and broad as a Dementor. Except that this Dementor's hood fell away from his face as he prepared to strike Cedric--a noseless face out of which two red eyes glowed--  
  
"NO!!"  
  
As soon as she screamed out, Cho realized that she was sitting up in bed. It was all sickeningly familiar: soaked with sweat, her breath coming in short pants, the bed-curtains drawn shut, only to be opened by Marietta Edgecombe, her glowing wand in her hand.  
  
"The coffin dream again?" she asked Cho matter-of-factly, as if she would be writing a report for Pomfrey or Flitwick.  
  
"No," Cho said, looking down at her hands, spitting out the words with a voice full of bitterness. "This was a new one. We were in the Third Task. Cedric--" Cho's voice broke. She stopped, waited a few seconds, then went on. "They're not the nicest dreams I've ever had, but they do have variety."  
  
"Will you be all right now?"  
  
Cho half-smiled. "I always am, once I'm up."  
  
Marietta closed the curtains. Cho counted to one hundred, until she was sure that Marietta had gone back to sleep, then she slipped out of bed.  
  
It was an hour before sunrise on a Sunday morning. She would normally have gotten up precisely at sunrise, had a light early breakfast and gone out to practice with the Ravenclaw team. As Cho walked through the darkened room to her writing-desk in front of the window, she kept her grim half smile. Normally? Nothing's been normal since the Third Task.  
  
She continued to sit at her desk, not making a sound, even when Marietta's cat Pywacket jumped up purring onto her lap. Cho scratched behind Pywacket's ears, the way she would at home with Chairman Miao on her lap...  
  
The tears started again, but not for Cedric. Cho Chang was homesick, and, as she clutched the cat to her chest, nobody was more surprised about that than Cho herself. She hardly got along with her mother at the best of times, and didn't like working in the shoppe; yet that was where she wanted to be right now--in Diagon Alley with her family. No classes, no dormitories, no Quidditch--  
  
What?! Cho's head came up so quickly that a startled Pywacket jumped clear of her. Give up Quidditch? She'd sooner give up-- and Cho realized the other reason she would want to stay, the only other thing holding her at Hogwarts now: the proposed Dark Arts instruction group, led by Harry Potter. A group that offered a chance, some day, a chance for Cho to avenge herself against Voldemort--and, in the meantime, closeness to Harry...  
  
Cho's stomach growled, and she only realized at that moment that she'd been thinking with her eyes closed, that the sun had been up for half an hour, and that some of the other girls were up already. Pywacket was now held by Marietta, who sat on the edge of her bed fully dressed, watching Cho as if she were in a zoo. Jan Nugginbridge was dressing, watching Cho somewhat curiously, as if she wasn't sure what the Chinese witch would do next. The muffled sound of praying came from behind the closed bed-curtains of Raina al-Qaba.  
  
Cho's cheeks burned as she hastily dressed and half-ran down to the Great Hall.   
  
xxx  
  
While she ate, some of the other Ravenclaw Quidditch players came and went, but Cho deliberately refused to speak to them. They accepted this; professional Quidditch players could be moody, unpredictable, or simply unhinged, and (if the Hogwarts teams were any indication) they got an early start at it. "Torture" Chambers, for instance, would change his diet on practice and game days, and refuse to eat anything orange-coloured; in the wizarding world, where pumpkin was a staple, that took in quite a lot.  
  
Once Cho was in the stadium, the morning seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. Quidditch practice was her time, a time of no distractions from within or without. She could focus clearly on one thing only: the Golden Snitch. Despite her having played a limited number of matches, she didn't feel the practices were dull or repetitive. The Snitch, after all, was almost a living thing, and it couldn't be second-guessed. Seeking it, then chasing it, took all her energies.  
  
During the mid-morning break, she approached Roger. "Rog, do you think it's likely anyone would try to use the Wronski this year?" The Wronski Feint was a deceptive maneuver that was the hallmark of Bulgarian Seeker Viktor Krum; they had both seen Krum use the Wronski at the World Quidditch Cup Finals last year.  
  
Roger had been thinking the same thing, because his answer came quickly: "I don't think Malfoy's good enough to pull it off. Potter could, I suppose, but not against everyone."  
  
"Meaning, not against me?"  
  
"I mean that he and Malfoy have been at wands drawn since their first day here. If Malfoy got him mad enough, he might try it just to put the Slytherins in their place."  
  
"But you don't think I'd make him mad enough?"  
  
"Well, you've only played against him once, haven't you? I don't recall him getting mad at you at all." Roger looked at her curiously. "Cho, look here; I spoke out of turn last year, I realise that. But are you trying to say that you and Potter..."  
  
"Roger! Of course not!" Cho could feel her face turning red. "There's nothing like that between us!" And there wasn't, in spite of what Cho wanted, but she surprised herself with the ferocity of her denial, and lowered her voice. "I, erm, I was only asking because of the Cup Finals. I was thinking of a way to counter the Wronski, is all."  
  
"Well, we may yet need it. But keep it to yourself for now; save it as a secret weapon."  
  
Cho nodded and walked away from Roger; she was convinced her face was still flushed, and she didn't want Roger to think too much about that.  
  
xxx  
  
Cho usually spent Sundays catching up on her assignments, which meant lots of writing. If the weather was good she'd sit at the desk in her dorm room, which had a view of the grounds. If there wasn't much of a view due to bad weather, she'd go to the library. But the days were getting shorter and the assignments were getting more complicated, which meant writing in the library after dinner.  
  
She could hardly concentrate, though, as she overheard a whispered conversation between two witches at the next table.  
  
"You just keep your cat to yourself, that's all I'm sayin'!"  
  
"I do! She never even got out yesterday!"  
  
"How did she mess with my owl, then?"  
  
"She couldn't and she didn't! What makes you think she did, anyway?"  
  
"Because I came back from breakfast and my owl's on my bed with a near-broken wing, and your cat slinking 'round the room! And a letter from me mum's been messed with!"  
  
"Hannah Abbott, are you saying that my cat attacked your owl AND read your mail?!"  
  
"That's not what I meant!" Hannah Abbott took a look around, but Cho was no longer sitting behind her. She was walking briskly out of the library.  
  
The Owlery, she said to herself. There's something about the owls, the mail, that's important. They've been watching Harry, and now Hannah, who was at the meeting. And--oh, no--what about ME??  
  
Cho took the steps two at a time, racing to the Owlery but not sure what she'd find. She wanted to be sure Quan Yin was all right, but beyond that--  
  
She threw open the Owlery door and stared at Argus Filch and Mrs. Norris, standing a few feet from the door, as if they were expecting her.  
  
"Well, well," Filch said, an evil gleam in his eyes. "Someone out to cause trouble after hours, eh?"  
  
"No, I ... I wanted to write a letter home, and wanted my owl. That's all."  
  
Filch took one step back. Cho walked almost the length of the Owlery, until she saw Quan Yin up in the rafters. She called to the owl, which glided down and rested on her arm. Cho took a quick look at her wings. There were no marks, but it had been a few days since she'd heard from home. She turned and walked out of the Owlery without another glance at Filch, with Quan Yin still on her arm.  
  
When she got to her desk, she wrote an immediate letter to her mother, in Chinese:  
  
"Mummy, I don't know how they're doing it, and I'm not really sure why, but the school seems to be intercepting owls and reading student mail. I've never heard of such a thing! It's outrageous! Is there anyone you or Daddy can talk to at your end?"  
  
She sent her owl off as soon as the letter was finished. She wanted to go back to the library, but her stomach and her mind were a bit unsettled. She worked for a while at her desk, then went to bed.  
  
xxx  
  
When she woke up, she sensed through the bed-curtains that something had changed. The very atmosphere of Hogwarts felt different, somehow. As she dressed, she saw that most of the other girls were now deliberately avoiding speaking to her. It couldn't be about the dreams, if they sleep through Cho's nightmares; what is it, then?  
  
As she entered the Common Room she found out what, as she saw a group of students crowded around the notice-board, She heard one boy say, "Cripes! You figure this changes things?"  
  
Another student answered, "I figure we may as well transfer to Durmstrang."  
  
A witch asked, "How could Dumbledore permit this?"  
  
Her companion replied, "Well, Fudge outranks Dumbledore, doesn't he?"  
  
"Well, this isn't Fudge, is it?" Cho recognized that voice as Vincent Krixlow's. "This is that c--- Umbridge's doing."  
  
Krixlow was known to have one of the filthiest mouths in Hogwarts, but he also had a grand sense of humour. Cho had never heard him speak in anger--until now. She edged to the front to see what the problem was.  
  
The problem was Inquisitorial Decree Number 24. That was how Cho read it, anyway. Umbridge could claim that it was educational, but there was nothing educational about this: she had banned all clubs and groups (which she defined as any gathering of three or more students), and would not let them get together again without her approval.  
  
"Does she really think she can get away with this?" Cho recognized that voice as well: the voice of "Jinx" Jenkins. Cho turned to him and asked, "Has Roger seen this yer?"  
  
"Has he ever. Took some of us an hour to calm him down. He went straight off to Umbridge, just to make sure whether it applied to Quidditch teams. I don't see how it could, though. Quidditch is like classes here, she can't take it away!"  
  
"She can and she did." Roger Davies was by the bookcase. "And, before you ask, I was all over Hooch to get her to try to do something, but Umbridge isn't having any of it. I asked her about the teams, and she said that," (here he imitated Umbridge's mincing, girlish voice) "everything must be reviewed on a case-by-case basis."  
  
Jinx swore. "That means she can drag things out until after Christmas, and there's nothing we can do!"  
  
"Oh, I'm not through yet. My next stop is Flitwick. She tried to catch him out in her inspection, but no luck. And he may be on Dumbledore's side, but he's never made a thing of it. If anyone can persuade her, I hope he can."  
  
Cho, however, had her doubts.  
  
xxx  
  
Tuesday was terrible and rainy, as if Umbridge's decree of the previous day was seen as not enough to stop the students; the presence of the rain tried to discourage anyone from wanting to do anything.  
  
Cho was part of the resigned atmosphere until the morning mail arrived. Quan Yin had returned from London, with a message from her father. Like Cho's message, his reply was written in Chinese characters.  
  
"I can understand your concern about the safety of owl traffic, especially these days, when the Ministry doesn't seem to know its own mind. It insists with one hand that the Dark One and his followers are no longer a threat, and yet with the other hand it tightens security measures and promotes suspicion and fear.  
  
"I hope that you will be safe in Hogwarts, whatever may happen, but that you will also remember the lessons I tried to teach you while we were in Europe this summer. It is worth remembering that, while Grindelwald caused so much evil in Europe, he also had allies in the East, and the wizarding community in China felt his grasp. That was when my elders and your mother's elders decided to move to England, although that took many years and, by then, Grindelwald had been destroyed but the Dark One was taking his place.  
  
"I promise you that I will keep my ears open in the Ministry for anything that might endanger you, In the meantime, understand that I must not act with haste. I will find out what I need to know, in my own way and in my own time. Please do not do anything rash until then."  
  
Fine to talk, Cho thought, but the pages of this three-scroll letter were out of order; something the methodical Chang Xiemin would never allow. But someone who didn't know Chinese could easily get the page order confused, especially if this were one of dozens of owl-posts being intercepted and read...  
  
xxx  
  
By Wednesday morning, when there was still no news of whether Ravenclaw would have a Quidditch team again, Cho's patience was almost at an end. When she came down to breakfast, it was with an eye out for Hermione Granger, or one of the others who were at the Hog's Head meeting. Obviously Decree Number Twenty Four was intended to stop the meeting, but the crowd that was there on Satureday--surely they'd try to go ahead regardless--unless something happened to someone, unless Umbridge had gone beyond intercepting owls to attacking the students...  
  
The day was, in a word, terrible, beginning with the weather. The previous day's rain had gotten worse, with high winds driving the rain noisily against the windows in History of Magic. Binns was the only one unaffected by the climate as he droned on and on about the subject of the day--which was the founding of Durmstrang Academy. Cho tried to focus on her memories of Viktor Krum playing at the World Quidditch Cup, catching the Golden Snitch but handing Ireland the victory...what a duffer...none of us would have made that mistake...   
  
By 'us', though, she meant herself, then Harry, then Cedric--and there the memories stopped being about Quidditch. It was all she could do to keep back the tears that threatened to well up yet again.  
  
Charms was not much better. At least Flitwick had chosen a neutral subject--Bluebell Flames--but he started the lesson by going on and on about how this Sixth-Level Charm was mastered by Hermione Granger of Gryffindor in her First Year. Cho tried to pay attention to Flitwick's instructions, but her thoughts kept bouncing back and forth, wondering when Granger, or Harry, or ANYBODY, was going to start those special Defense classes--and wondering just how close Granger and Harry really were... Cho was finally able to produce a passable bit of Bluebell Flames, but she was convinced that she was the worst in her class.  
  
Cho couldn't face lunch and instead dashed back to her dorm room after class, driven by her memories and the still-violent weather. Once again she simply threw herself on the bed and let the tears come, altrhough she'd already lost control of them as she dashed up the stairs to her dorm. When she'd calmed down, cursing herself for still being mastered by her grief instead of trying to master it, she opened her bed-curtains at the same moment that Raina opened hers. Raina had been saying her noon prayers.  
  
Cho wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "We don't talk much anymore."  
  
"Sorry." Raina sat on the edge of her bed, looking down at her hands but not at Cho. "I really don't know what to say."  
  
"Don't you think I owe Cedric a few tears?"  
  
"Not really. At least, not this much. Cho, believe it or not, I worry about you. All this crying; it's not healthy."  
  
Cho found herself getting angry at Raina, but tried to stay calm. "If I could stop it, don't you think I would?"  
  
"I--I don't know." Raina gathered her books for the Divination class after lunch.  
  
Cho decided to try again. "Raina, are you sure you can't come to those meetings I spoke of?"  
  
She hesitated a moment, then shook her head. "It would be wrong," she said, barely above a whisper. "Sorry." She almost ran from the room before Cho could say anything else.  
  
Is she right, Cho wondered; is it so wrong to want to learn to defend oneself against Voldemort? No; I will NOT give Umbridge the satisfaction of thinking she's right. She's wrong, she's all wrong about Hogwarts, and about this!  
  
In this frame of mind she went to Muggle Studies and sat through a tediously detailed explanation of the workings of guns. And in Potions, Snape was simply Snape. It was a rotten end to a rotten afternoon as Cho left the Potions dungeon and started up toward the Great Hall.  
  
"Hi, Cho!"  
  
Cho turned to find she was being hailed by Ginny Weasley, the Fourth Year sister of Harry's friend Ron Weasley.  
  
Ginny dropped her voice as she stood next to Cho. "There's a meeting tonight."  
  
Cho quickly held up her hand to silence Ginny. She looked around, spotted Marietta and waved her over.  
  
"Eight o'clock," Ginny told both of them. "Up on the seventh floor, by the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. There's a secret room there we can use." With that, Ginny stopped and dashed down the corridor.  
  
Cho glanced at Marietta, who began to shake her head. "I've got so much work to do..."  
  
"Don't say that, Marietta." Cho was almost pleading. "You can beg off later, but at least come with me to the first meeting. Please; it just won't feel right."  
  
Marietta sighed. "For an hour, I suppose."  
  
Cho seemed so happy--no, so relieved--that it didn't really register with her that Marietta didn't say another word to her, even as they made their way that evening to the seventh floor of Hogwarts Castle, just before eight.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in chapter 15, wherein we find out a bit more about Dumbledore's Army. 


	15. The DA

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SIXTH YEAR  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
15. The DA  
  
The wizarding world chose to keep itself apart from Muggle society, and vice versa, for a number of reasons, and one reason was because each world had done things that the other might find foolhardy, if not downright dangerous. When Muggles spoke of witches and wizards, they would dwell on spells gone wrong or maleficent demons summoned up from Hell Itself. Magical folk similarly dwelt on those Muggles who, for the benefit of humankind, had developed guns capable of firing 1,500 bullets per minute or released clouds of toxic gas, killing thousands at one go.  
  
Of course, for each fearful action on either side, there were dozens that were little worse than folly, and either side could laugh at itself over these miscalculations. There was, for example, the wizard known to history as Barnabas the Barmy, whose love of the theater in the Age of Elizabeth led to the act of foolishness for which he is remembered to this day: trying to teach ballet to trolls, in the mistaken belief that it might stimulate their intelligence and raise them above their vicious and warlike states.  
  
The results of that mistake were on display on the seventh floor of Hogwarts castle, where a tapestry showed the corps de ballet expressing its appreciation of Barnabas' efforts by clubbing him without mercy. This was the tapestry Ginny Weasley had told Cho Chang to look for in order to find their first round of independent study in Defense Against the Dark Arts.  
  
"Can't imagine what she's playing at," huffed Marietta Edgecombe as the two Ravenclaw Sixth Years finally reached the seventh floor and stopped to catch their breath. There were two staircases down from that floor, one at either end of the corridor, and because they hadn't seen other students making the climb, they were afraid that this was all some elaborate hoax.  
  
"There's the tapestry," Cho pointed, "but I don't recall a classroom..." Cho's voice trailed off as she looked across from the tapestry at a door she was sure hadn't been there before.  
  
xxx  
  
Two hours later, Cho was sitting at her writing desk, a fresh scroll laid out in front of her. She'd finished an essay for Binns on how the Dementors came into being, but she felt that she couldn't sleep without taking a few notes.  
  
She picked up her quill, set it down again, picked it up and set it down three times before she realized her nervousness was due to fear that someone might read her notes. She would have to write something, but also protect it as best she could. After pondering the problem a minute, she Transfigured her quill into a brush, and began writing notes in Chinese:  
  
"Room--good point!"  
  
And it was, Cho thought. She had never seen that classroom before, for whatever reason--she had accepted long ago that, despite the thickness of "Hogwarts--A History," the castle did not give up its secrets easily. But one could not ask for a better classroom for Defense Against the Dark Arts.   
  
It was large, certainly large enough for the almost thirty students who were there tonight, with room for them to break up into practice pairs. There were no writing desks or benches; instead, the floor was almost covered with large cushions. The walls were lined with shelves, and, except for one set at the far end of the room which held odd little machines (which Cho was sure Harry would explain about and allow them to use at some point in the future), the shelves were full of books: old and new, large and small, even some titles which Cho had seen in the Restricted section of the library, but all of them devoted to the Dark Arts and how to defend against them.  
  
At first, Cho was a bit nervous about some of the Restricted titles; she knew that the school would have limited their circulation for a reason. However, no sooner had she thought this than one of the younger students--a girl named Hannah Abbott--pulled a Restricted title from the shelf: "Unto the Fourth Generation: Coping with Really Long-Lasting Hexes." When she tried to open it, though, the book, instead of shrieking like the library's Restricted volumes, simply said, "Not old enough, dearie."  
  
Nice to know he's looking out after our well-being, Cho smiled as she wrote, "Library--very good point."  
  
"Group Name--" She hesitated before finishing the entry: "sort of good point." Cho felt proud of herself for proposing the name "Defense Association;" it explained the group's purpose in a general way, and the initials could stand for "Dark Arts," which they were there to study about anyway. But then the Weasley girl pointed out that the name could also stand for "Dumbledore's Army," and Granger wrote that down at once. Absurd, Cho thought; Dumbledore was nowhere near the room, and might not even approve of what they were doing if he knew. It was petty, she knew, but it was why she didn't vote for the name. And Granger seemed to take some sort of satisfaction that Weasley's name had been chosen over Cho's...  
  
"Disarming Spell--good point." Good enough to begin with, certainly, regardless of what that noisy Zacharias Smith thought. If it was simple but still effective against Voldemort, as Harry said, so much the better. And there was no certainty that any of them would actually have to face down Voldemort anyway; maybe just a couple of his followers, with no heightened powers to speak of--she hoped...  
  
"Students--" She had to stop and think for a minute. "Not enough Ravenclaws--bad point."  
  
We're supposed to be the smart ones, she thought. Why aren't there more of us who know that Voldemort is back and want to do something about it? I mean, I sort of had to drag Marietta along, and Luna Lovegood was, well, just being Luna, sort-of being there and not being there at the same time; and that other boy--what's his name? Corner?--I think young Weasley dragged him along. They're both Fourth Year, I think. They looked as if they might be, well, involved...  
  
"Zacharias Smith--very bad point!" I mean, who did he think he was, anyway? Always finding fault with anything Harry tried to tell us. Even at the Hog's Head meeting, he was the same. Unbelievable that he's a Hufflepuff. He hardly deserves to be in the same House with Cedric--  
  
Cho caught herself. Heavenly Emperor, what am I doing? I've never thought of Cedric as if he was still alive. I know he's dead; why did I forget it just now? This can't be good...  
  
"Harry--" No hesitation this time: with a smile and a blush, she finished the line.  
  
"Harry--very good point!"  
  
But she immediately added another line.  
  
"Me--very bad point!"  
  
She set the quill down and remembered how she tried and tried to master the Expelliarmus, but seemed to get toungue-tied if Harry was observing her. She thought she had understood the wand movements and the words--they seemed simple enough--and had made them work on Marietta once or twice when the group had paired off for practice. But then Harry started pacing around the room, and Cho kept watch out of the corner of her eye, rather than concentrating on the spell. He seemed to want to inspect all the others first, sometimes seeming to walk toward Cho and Marietta only to turn away and watch someone else, as if he was nervous about being near her. But the longer Harry took to get to her, the more nervous she got.   
  
She was sure that he was going to finally get to her when he had to stop and reprimand the Weasley twins for interfering with Zacharias Smith's practice--not that Smith didn't deserve it, but this is serious, Cho thought at the time. Our lives could depend on this! She let Marietta Disarm her for a while, but she seemed to master it quickly; it was Cho who was having trouble and needed the practice.  
  
So it was that, after watching Weasley and Corner Disarm each other yet again, Harry turned toward Cho, who had been thinking once again not about the Disarming Spell but about how Ginny Weasley could come up with a silly name like "Dumbledore's Army." Which was why, when Harry stepped closer and closer, Cho, instead of saying "Expelliarmus!", which should have Disarmed Marietta, instead said "Expelli-Army-ous!" Which did nothing at all.  
  
No! This was as embarrassing as Harry in the carriage in September, getting sprayed with the Mimbulus. Cho tried again, "I mean, Expellimelius!" Before she could try a third time, though, Marietta's wand-arm sleeve burst into flame.  
  
Cho was frozen in embarrassment; Marietta put out the flames herself. She tried to tell Harry that she wasn't usually so bad at it, that he made her nervous; he tried to say at first that she was quite good, which even she refused to swallow; she looked at him in disbelief, he admitted she was terrible but made a joke of it, while Cho laughed nervously. Marietta, who seemed bothered by Harry, moved away from them. They talked for a bit about Marietta, about Cho standing up to her parents because of Cedric...  
  
His name was out of Cho's mouth before she realized it. She remembered from the Hog's Head meeting that Cedric's death was a sore point with Harry. She stood there, nervously afraid to say anything else, and so apparently did Harry, and it might have stayed that way if Luna Lovegood hadn't started to tell Harry some of her father's theories about the Ministry of Magic--Quizzler rubbish about assassinations and poisons and whatnot. Cho had started to challenge Luna about all that when Harry whispered, "Don't ask." Harry was right, of course; Cho shouldn't take Luna so seriously, and she found herself giggling out of relief.  
  
Of course, just then, class ended. Harry didn't just let everyone leave at once, however; he used an enchanted map of Hogwarts that showed who was where, and sent them off in groups of three or four. Cho was fascinated by the map and watched Harry refer to it a few times before he sent all of the Ravenclaws off at once, returning to their tower in the west wing.  
  
The feelings of mistrust--that somehow Umbridge would hear or see whatever happened in Hogwarts--were still so thick at Hogwarts that none of the four spoke until they were at the tapestry and Marietta had given the password ("avuncular"). Once they were in the Common Room, Marietta muttered, "I'm not going back next Wednesday."  
  
"But you should!" Cho urged her as they climbed the stairs to their dormitory. "You were very good, you know."  
  
"I suppose," Marietta admitted.  
  
"You are," Cho repeated; "I'm not making this up!"  
  
As they got to the top of the stairs, Marietta sort of shrugged. "Well, I would like to do something with my life that isn't just about running the Floo Network. Something more active."  
  
Cho smiled to herself now as she finished her scroll, then reduced it to the size of a Muggle postage-stamp and hid it inside Slinkhard. Finally, she thought, there'll be something between the book covers worth reading.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 16, wherein the DA meetings continue successfully but the first Quidditch match of the season ends in disaster... 


	16. Winners and Losers

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SIXTH YEAR  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
16. Winners and Losers  
  
For the next two weeks, Cho felt something she hadn't felt in months. It wasn't exactly happiness or elation, but something similar. Even as she tried out her homework for Dumbledore's Army, or read over her notes hidden away in Slinkhard's text, she felt it but couldn't put a name to it. It went beyond satisfaction, went beyond the giddy daring of being rebellious against the orders of Umbridge (who Krixlow and several of the other Ravenclaws had taken to calling "Umbitch" if they thought they weren't being overheard). It took her two weeks to put a name to it:  
  
Harry.  
  
Not that her mourning for Cedric Diggory was over; far from it. He was still in her nightmares at least once a week. She even had names for them now: Coffin Dream, Third Task Dream, Carving Machine Dream. Just when she thought she could get it all down to a manageable system, though, along would come a new dream:  
  
She had gone to the secret garden, which Cedric had kept behind the greenhouses. Cedric, who appeared so level-headed and unperturbed, was once subject to violent fits, owing to the pressures put upon him by his father, Amos Diggory. Madame Sprout, recognizing this, gave Cedric the garden for therapy, and it did its work. As Cedric grew into his Seventh Year, he kept the garden, and even shared the secret of it with Cho.  
  
In this dream, however, Cho came into the garden to see it as she had the night of the Third Task: with every plant violently ripped from the earth and tossed about as if by high winds. She heard a step behind her, turned to greet Cedric...  
  
only to find him turned into a werewolf, eyes glowing, mouth dripping with blood and saliva, a crazed rumble coming from his throat. Cho didn't have a chance to move as he pounced on her, sinking his fangs into her throat...  
  
which was when she awoke, screaming in terror, not even realizing that Marietta had opened the bed-curtains.  
  
"Still?" Marietta said sleeping.  
  
"Sorry," Cho muttered. "I don't mean to do this..."  
  
"I know," Marietta replied, sounding less than concerned as she brought Cho a small cup of the Draught of Peace. "Can you get your rest now? You want to be sharp for the Professor," she smiled.  
  
Cho drank the potion, then settled back into her bed, a small smile playing across her lips. Both girls knew who the Professor was...  
  
Harry.  
  
xxx  
  
The first meeting of Dumbledore's Army (a name Cho still detested) wasn't a ringing success for Cho Chang, but that was because of Harry. He seemed to make a point of avoiding Cho as he paced around the room, watching everyone but her try the Expelliarmus. She was convinced it was because she was doing it all wrong and he just didn't want to have to tell her so. She was briefly afraid of being so bad at it that he would actually tell her to leave the DA, chased out by the laughter of everyone in the room...  
  
But the truth was far kinder than that. As nervous as Cho was around Harry, that's how nervous Harry was around Cho. But by the middle of the second meeting, they both seemed to realize that, whatever else happened, they wouldn't embarrass themselves horribly. Harry began speaking to Cho about her technique as if she were just another student--no, that wasn't quite right. There was always something under his words to her--she could sense it. It was like their chance meeting in the Owlery; they could talk about magic, Quidditch, anything else, and not feel nervous about making a stupid mistake.  
  
It's happening at last, Cho would think to herself later, many times over the weeks. I wanted this for so long and it's happening at last. Harry's still the Gryffindor Seeker; he's still The Boy Who Lived...  
  
but he's becoming a friend.  
  
xxx  
  
As they both got over their nervousness, Cho began to improve. She wasn't the brightest student in the group; if anyone earned that label, it would have been Granger. Always the know-all, always trying to take charge when Harry was clearly the leader. It was Granger who, after two meeting had to be rescheduled for Quidditch practice, announced to them all that she'd come up with a way to signal the next time and date of the meetings, and, oh, by the way, it involves an advanced Protean Charm, Seventh Year stuff...  
  
Don't do this, Cho scolded herself. There might not even be an Army without her pushing Harry to it. Honestly, for someone who's done so much, Harry can be so reluctant to talk about what makes him so very special. He probably gets a lot of Boy-Who-Lived remarks, and even resentment if that Zacharias Smith is any indication. I hope his friends appreciate him, at any rate. I hope that they can encourage him and also keep him level-headed. I hope that I can...  
  
At this point, Cho would look down at her desk or the table in the Great Hall or at her hands folded in her lap. She would feel her cheeks beginning to burn. She had spent years wishing for something impossible, and it was seeming more possible now than ever before.  
  
xxx  
  
So she went to the gatherings on the seventh floor, and watched while everyone basically started from the beginning with the Expelliarmus and moved up to higher level magic. Some moved quicker than others, and some would excel at one spell only to fall behind in another. Padma's sister Parvati had quickly grasped the Reducto Curse and pulverized a table with it, only to be stumped the following week by the Shield Charm. Some students mastered the Impediment Jinx immediately, and others spent all hour or longer working to get it.  
  
Cho found herself working harder in the meetings than she ever had to do for Flitwick or McGonagall. She usually got through the evening all right, and once was even singled out by Harry for her Accio Charm, making the summoned book circle other students on its way into her hands. But she'd learned that the year before, and she knew she was just showing off. There had to be some special bit of magic she could claim...  
  
The other Ravenclaws were only average in their performance. Corner was too busy trying to chat up Ginny Weasley to take in much of what Harry was saying, and Marietta, well, she seemed reluctant to try much of anything. Didn't she realize that their N.E.W.T.s were only a year away?  
  
And then there was Luna Lovegood. And she had been, well, Luna since her first day at Hogwarts. The Sorting Hat had done right to put her into Ravenclaw; she picked up Harry's magical instructions quickly, effortlessly. He'd demonstrate and explain a particular Charm or Jinx, she'd get it right in one go--and then start babbling nonsense about improbably theories and bizarre creatures, all grist for her father's "Quibbler," no doubt. It was no wonder she was a Fourth Year, but still carried the book with her library card, her means of getting into Ravenclaw House, wherever she went. During her First Year it was taken off of the bookcase and hidden almost daily for a fortnight, until she decided to just carry the card. It never occurred to her to put an Anti-Theft Charm or an Alarm Hex or even a Spell of Invisibility on the book; sometimes she seemed to relish being treated as the Odd One Out.  
  
Fine, then, Cho had decided years before; if you know this is going to happen and you won't change your ways to make it stop, then you're not my worry.  
  
xxx  
  
Cho's worries, besides classes and the Army, were about Quidditch. The season would start soon with Hogwarts's by-now-established grudge match: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. The Houses hated each other, the teams hated each other, and the Seekers especially hated each other--in fact, they seemed to revel in their hatred.  
  
"They say Potter and Malfoy had it in for each other their first week," "Torture" Chambers said as they packed up after their last practice before the first match. The rains of October had limited their practices, but this early November night was dry but bitter cold, and their breaths steamed as they spoke.  
  
Roger Davies nodded. "Since then, it's as if Malfoy saves his worst tricks for Potter. Hey, Cho, remember when he dressed up as a dementor?"  
  
Cho looked at them, nodded her head, then turned away quickly. Her cheeks started to colour. That match had been an embarrassment to her; she's seen the dark cloak, panicked and turned away from the Snitch. Her first official match at Hogwarts...  
  
...and also her first official match against Harry Potter.  
  
It'll be different this year, she told herself. I'll be up against Harry again, maybe for the House Quidditch Cup. Then he'll see how much I really know. Maybe there are a few things I can teach him...  
  
No matter what she thought about, it seemed, her cheeks continued to flush quite prettily.  
  
xxx  
  
Game Day dawned gray and cold, with yesterday's dew frozen to ice underfoot. Cho walked to the stadium with members of her House team rather than her dormitory mates. Except for Marietta, the girls hadn't been talking to her very much this year anyway, and she knew the team wouldn't bother her.  
  
She only vaguely noticed that the Slytherins were wearing little crown-shaped badges, although they immediately reminded her of Draco's little trick from last year's Tournament: the "Support Cedric Diggory/Potter Stinks" badges. She remembered how she thought that Cedric had something to do with them at first--how she'd argued with him... and froze in her tracks, choking back a sob. If she didn't get hold of herself, she knew she wouldn't even be able to enter the stadium.  
  
Roger had been walking alongside Cho; he stopped and turned when she stopped. "Not taking another bad turn, are you?"  
  
The whole school knew about her sudden fits of crying, although it wasn't half of what she was going through. Cho just shook her head. "Go on, I'll catch up."  
  
As Cho stood on the path trying to compose herself, a river of students flowed around her. One of them with what looked like the head of a lion on her own head--Lovegood, of course--turned to Cho as if waiting to be asked a question. Then, after a few seconds, the Fourth Year shrugged, turned and dashed to the stadium.  
  
What did she want? It couldn't have been about the Army, could it? We're not supposed to speak of it. Or was she trying to reach out to Cho in her misery...? Nonsense; she's never had a boyfriend; how could she understand?  
  
Cho stayed rooted to the path until her breathing returned to normal and she could look up without tears in her eyes. As a result, she was one of the last ones into the stadium, and found a seat in the Ravenclaw section just as Madam Hooch was ready to blow the whistle.  
  
The match was, in a word, harrowing. In the two years since the last match, Slytherin had replaced its two Beaters with a pair of deadly trolls, or so it seemed from their vicious Bludger-work. Gryffindor, on the other hand, lost its Keeper and was putting its hopes on yet another Weasley, Ron. But it seemed as if the family's Quidditch talent had run dry before he could get to it. Most of his save attempts were failures--spectacular, but failures.  
  
But the match came down, as so many matches do, to the Seekers, and Malfoy and Harry ended up clawing at the Golden Snitch together, like two kittens at the same ball of yarn, before Harry--GOT IT!  
  
And was immediately hit in the back by a Bludger from one of the Slytherin trolls.  
  
Cho wasn't worried if Harry was hurt--Bludgers were nothing that Madam Pomfrey couldn't fix if she had to. What's important is that Harry--er, Gryffindor won. If Slytherin loses their next match after the New Year, they'd be out of the running, along with Hufflepuff, who surely couldn't find a Seeker to replace Cedric.  
  
Cedric...  
  
Cho was lost so deep in thought that at first she didn't hear any of the commotion on the field. She looked down just in time to see Madam Hooch throw an Impediment Jinx at Harry! What had she just missed?!  
  
xxx  
  
She and the rest of the house team found it all out in the Ravenclaw Common Room after lunch, as Padma Patil relayed what Parvati had told her twin.  
  
"So, Umbitch decided that it was within the scope of the powers Fudge had granted her."  
  
"You mean, she can ban them, for LIFE? Even after they leave Hogwarts?" Jenkins was incredulous.  
  
"Unless someone wants to challenge her on it, and that would mean going against Fudge. If she says for life, that's what she means."  
  
Roger Davies was in a comfy chair by the fire; he turned to Cho. "You know what this means?" Before Cho could even answer his question, Roger jumped up: "It means the Cup is OURS! It means you get to see your name on the Cup, Cho! And you, "Jinx", and all of you! She just handed it to us!"  
  
"To Slytherin, more like," Vincent Krixlow answered. "If I didn't know she fancied Fudge, I'd say she did it because she fancied Snape."  
  
"Whether she does or not doesn't matter. She's crippled the Gryffindors; they can't find quality replacements for the Seeker and both Beaters. We take Hufflepuff out in a few weeks--that'll be a doddle. Then it's just us versus Slytherin. We already know their tricks, and we're not about to do anything stupid like Potter did. Imagine him throwing a punch at Malfoy. You know better than that, right, Cho?"  
  
The gleeful Davies never got an answer from Cho. She just sat staring into the fire, tears starting in her eyes. Everyone else assumed she was remembering Cedric again; they were wrong.  
  
Harry, she thought; Harry. Your heart must be broken...  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 17, wherein Cho takes to the pitch for the first time in two years... 


	17. A Seeker Once Again

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SIXTH YEAR  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
17. A Seeker Once Again  
  
"Right-o, Hogwarts, and welcome!"  
  
xxx  
  
The weeks between November 2 and December 14 were cold and quiet for Cho, broken only by her terrors over Cedric and Quidditch practice and lessons from Harry.  
  
The Ravenclaw team worked harder than ever after Umbridge's Edict #25 banning Harry and the Weasley twins from Quidditch for life. Perhaps Roger Davies was half-afraid that she might change her mind and let them back on the team, or that McGonagall would find a way. Perhaps he was afraid that Ravenclaw House would be the next to lose players. In any event, he took to lecturing the team almost daily about not stepping out of line, not getting involved in anything "the least bit dicey," as he put it, and definitely not crossing Umbridge.  
  
Cho didn't care; she'd been crossing Umbridge by being part of the Army, and she was going to keep on. She checked the enchanted Galleon, noted the times and dates for each meeting, and was among the first there, taking in Harry and all that he had to teach.  
  
Before one lesson, Zacharias Smith, a Chaser on the Hufflepuff team, asked about changing schedules just before the match. Cho studied Harry's face carefully, but, if he were upset about having to talk Quidditch after what had happened to him, he gave no sign. You're made of stronger stuff than I am, Cho sighed to herself. Being banned would kill me.  
  
Then it was off on another round of learning Hexes and Charms. She had little trouble picking up the Somnambula Sleeping Charm, but the following week she was all thumbs at the Obliteration Charm--until Harry stopped to work it through with her. She didn't say a word for the rest of the lesson, but smiled more broadly than she had since last June. She was still smiling when she left the Room of Requirement, rubbing her wand hand, remembering how it felt when Harry adjusted her grip.  
  
It was ... nice. It didn't send shivers and waves and fog through her, the way Cedric had, but there was definitely something there. And she knew that it would be pleasant to find out what it was...  
  
xxx  
  
Maybe part of it was the relief of knowing that she wouldn't have to think of Harry as an opponent. She'd hated the idea that, just as they seemed to be drawing closer in the Defense courses, they'd have to contend with each other as opposing Seekers for the Quidditch Cup. As bad as Cho felt about Harry's punishment, she couldn't help but be a bit pleased at the way things had worked out.  
  
Meanwhile, she didn't have any trouble thinking of the Hufflepuffs as a team to beat. Even though Davies worked them nearly to ribbons at practice, the consensus was that Hufflepuff's team wouldn't be much different from past years, and that Summerby, the new Seeker, was hardly a replacement.  
  
They would never say who Summerby replaced, especially if Cho was within earshot. The other players had all decided that, for Cho's own good, they wouldn't mention the name of Cedric Diggory, for fear of setting her off.  
  
Except that Cho knew; she couldn't help but notice. She'd be talking strategy with Roger, or Hugo Millbanks the new Keeper, when all of a sudden their sentences would take some strange grammatical turn quite off the subject. "Quite right," Millbanks said one time, "all we have to is keep, er, um, the way clear for you to get the Snitch." They were even afraid to say "Hufflepuff Seeker" now. Cho hated them for treading so lightly around her; then she realized that they were doing it out of consideration for her feelings, which made her hate herself instead. As a result, she avoided the team off the pitch as much as possible.  
  
She explained all of this in a scroll home one week before the match, as she sat alone in her dormitory room. "Mummy, it is so frustrating I can't stand it! I know what they're doing better than they do! They want to spare me having to think about Cedric--as if I still don't think of him anyway! This way, by tip-toeing around the subject, it just becomes all the more obvious. And if I manage to concentrate on the match, or studies, or something else, then their silence just ends up reminding me of Cedric.  
  
"As for that--I wish I had better news to report to you and Daddy, but the dreams keep on, as horrid as ever. They seem to be somewhat fewer and farther apart, but still they strike me once or twice a week. And during my waking hours--I have tried and tried, Mummy, and I think I'm able to control things, push back the memories, and I'm getting better at it, but it's still merely avoiding the inevitable. And when I can't stop it, it just seems to burst out all the worse. At least I know to run to the lav or my dorm room and not make a spectacle of myself."  
  
Cho bit her lip; she wasn't being totally honest. The memories were still there, overwhelming her at times, and she hated herself for going to pieces, then hated herself for hating herself when it also meant denying what she and Cedric had meant to each other. So, for most of the rest of the week, she would more and more brutally force down her feelings, which only made the inevitable explosion even worse.  
  
She found, though, that she needed less energy to keep things down during the meetings of the Army. Perhaps it was because she was too busy concentrating on the spells--or the teacher...  
  
Cho let that daydream play through, as it had been doing more and more often, until she snapped herself back to her writing-desk. Not now, she scolded; later. She picked up her quill.  
  
"Apart from that, the practices have gone very well, and I think next week's game will be a good one. By the way, could you walk down the Alley and mention the game to the old gentleman in Quality Quidditch Supplies? We were chatting a bit back before the World Cup, and I told him I'd let him know when I played next. Hard to believe that so much time has passed."  
  
Time, she thought; time has nothing to do with it. When things happen, they happen in an instant, so that you could be chatting with someone you love in the morning and, by sundown...  
  
It was starting again, and, damn it, she was the one who started it this time. She had to lay on her bed, clutching the pillow over her face to keep from screaming, for several minutes until it passed. Then she got up, hastily ended the scroll and tied it to Quan Yin's leg. She hardly felt the cold December air as she opened the window to let her owl out; or, if she did feel the cold, she felt it was somehow in harmony with her soul.  
  
xxx  
  
Saturday, December 14, dawned late, cold and gray. A haze of snow beyond the mountains blocked the sunlight, so that everyone in the castle seemed to be running late. As Cho walked to the Great Hall for breakfast, she noticed that McGonagall had finally posted the list on the message board: the list of which students would stay in the castle over the holidays.  
  
Harry was on it, and his friend Ron. Granger wasn't. Good, Cho thought; Harry could do with some time away from Granger. Cho believed it to be true, even if she wasn't sure why.  
  
Most of the rest of her team was already at the Ravenclaw table; the new Chasers, Bradley and Chambers, were missing, but they followed Cho in only a minute later.  
  
As Cho buttered a piece of toast, Roger Davies stood up and walked over to her. "Are you sure you won't have problems with this?"  
  
"As hard as we've trained for this? Why would you think I'd have problems now?" Cho's voice was civil enough, but her eyes flared. She could count the matches she'd actually played on one hand, and here Roger was trying to keep her off playing! What was he thinking?  
  
Roger got the message and backed away. The other Ravenclaws kept glancing between the two. The rest of breakfast was silent.  
  
One by one they drifted out of the Great Hall; they would meet up again at half past ten in the Common Room, then go over to the stadium. Cho went over to the library, took out a few books on Tibetan magic for her Sixth Year seminar class on International Magic, returned to her dorm and sat on her bed; not reading, not thinking, not doing anything.   
  
Just before it was time to leave, Raina rushed into the room to trade her cloak for something warmer. "Oh; didn't know you were here. Going to win it for us today?" she said pleasantly.  
  
Cho half-smiled. She had counted Raina as a friend since their First Year. They were, after all, juggling the culture of Hogwarts, of the ancient arts of Merlin, with the traditions of other countries. It wasn't always easy, and they had supported each other--until now. Raina's father had warned her to avoid crossing Umbridge, and Raina knew that Cho would never respect the Inquisitor--not unless the Ministry changed its story about what happened to Cedric.  
  
But now... Cho could never tell Raina about the Army, even if she thought she would have done well in it. Maybe they could be friends again; just not yet.  
  
"I'm not thinking about the match," Cho answered Raina. "I'm thinking about the year. We're getting the Cup back."  
  
"I know you can do it." Raina walked over to Cho, took her hand, squeezed it, then turned and left, as if she was afraid of something.  
  
Cho sighed; she knew it wasn't Raina's fault, or even her father's. This was just one more crime to lay at the tiny feet of Dolores Jane Umbridge. Cho saw that it was time; she walked down to the Common Room.  
  
xxx  
  
"Right-o, Hogwarts, and welcome!"  
  
Lee Jordan's voice had deepened in two years, but his style was pretty much the same.  
  
"Hope you're all bundled up with Thermal Charms at the ready. The weather is cold today, but don't worry about the players, because they'll keep things plenty hot on the pitch!"  
  
Cho waited in the Ravenclaw changing room for Lee to announce them. Roger was talking, but it was something he'd said a dozen times that week already. She'd tuned him out.  
  
"First, we have the team from Hufflepuff!"  
  
As he announced the line-up, copying the way it had been done at the World Quidditch Cup, Cho braced herself for the last name, the team Seeker: "And Summerby!"  
  
She'd been holding her breath, and then let it out when she heard the name. It wasn't his name, she knew it wouldn't be his.  
  
"And now, the team that held the Cup until Gryffindor got it, and I'm sure they want it back: the team from Ravenclaw!"  
  
Cho shouldered her Comet Two Sixty and stood at the end of the line as her team walked onto the pitch:  
  
"Davies! Bradley! Chambers! Becksnee! Jenkins! Millbanks! And Chang!"  
  
Cho was staring at Hugo Millbanks' shoulder-blades right in front of her. She wanted to wait as long as she could before turning her head and looking...anywhere. At the stands, at the Hufflepuffs...  
  
She felt Hooch's whistle rather than heard it, and kicked up into the air out of reflex. It wasn't until she was airborne that she noticed the Hufflepuff team had changed their uniforms slightly: the players each had the initials CD sewn onto their left sleeves.  
  
No less than he deserves, Cho thought, but it's not going to bother me. I won't let it bother me; I won't! She tore her eyes away, and, more bitter than sorrowful, began her Seeking.  
  
She did allow herself a few seconds, however, to scan the crowd. She couldn't miss the faculty in their box, the banners brought by the Ravenclaws, or Lovegood, whose head this time sported a rampant eagle with a Snitch in its beak. But she also scanned the Gryffindors. Harry wasn't there. Surely Umbridge's ban doesn't extend to being a spectator? No; he's probably in no mood to watch what he can't have. Still, I wish he were here to see me...  
  
She shook that distracting thought out of her head, then noticed a banner in the Hufflepuff stands: MAKE CEDRIC PROUD!  
  
No you won't, Cho thought, her anger rising again. That's my job! I'll make Cedric proud of ME! And, thinking she saw the Snitch, flew off.  
  
Most of the time the match wasn't exactly close, but not for lack of trying on Hufflepuff's part. Zacharias Smith and Susan Bones in particular made life miserable for the Ravenclaw Keeper as they kept charging the rings, playing more agressively than the team had in recent memory. Millbanks, meanwhile, used everything he had to protect the rings: arms, feet, head, the broom itself. He started to flag at the thirty-minute mark, letting in goals that should have been stopped. The Beaters, too, had underestimated Hufflepuff, using too much power too soon, and their Bludger work was getting sloppy.  
  
All this registered at the back fo Cho's mind, and she knew there was no more time to waste. Twice already she'd caught herself woolgathering during the match, comparing Summerby to Cedric, or Harry, and not Seeking out the Golden Snitch. Twice she saw it, but across the field, both times in the middle of a scrum of Chasers. By the time she'd gotten close enough, it had zipped away out of sight. The only consolation was that Summerby, who had taken to shadowing her, hadn't been able to do anything about it either.  
  
At the forty-two minute mark, she saw it. She spiraled up, cautiously looking behind to see if Summerby was in her wake. When she saw that he was, she suddenly turned, diving past him, headed for the Snitch at the foot of the Ravenclaw goalposts.  
  
Before she could reach it, the Snitch bolted straight up; Cho changed course to follow it. She dodged first one Hufflepuff Bludger, then another; the way was clear. Then, coming straight at her, she saw the Hufflepuff Seeker--  
  
and, for an instant, she saw Cedric's face.  
  
NO! her mind screamed. HE'S DEAD! HE'S DEAD!  
  
With her eyes squeezed tight shut, she reached out--  
  
and grabbed the Snitch.  
  
"Ravenclaw wins it!" She barely heard Jordan shouting. "A brilliant effort by Hufflepuff, but it all comes down to the Snitch, and with a stellar grab by Cho Chang, the final score is Ravenclaw 250, Hufflepuff 100!"  
  
Cho had willed herself to do nothing but get the Golden Snitch; now that she had it, there was nothing left. Her mind was almost completely blank as she settled onto the pitch. She was immediately mobbed by the team, who were mobbed in turn by the spectators.  
  
"That was brilliant!" Jenkins gushed as he grabbed her hands in both of his. Cho was half-afraid he would pick her up off the ground, but at that moment Millbanks turned her around to face him.  
  
"Great catch, Cho," he smiled; "you pulled us out of the Devil's Snare that time."  
  
"Miss Chang!" She turned back; Madam Hooch was behind her, her hand out. Cho gave her the Snitch; as soon as she did, Hooch broke out into a broad smile. "I've been waiting for you to show us what you had in you, and you surely did. Excellent flying."  
  
Little else registered with her after those words, and she hardly noticed as one Ravenclaw, then another, tried to press through the crowd to congratulate her. Roger, who hadn't yet said a word to her, had to raise his hand and shout: "You know that you can say all this in the Common Room, where it isn't so damn cold!"  
  
The others laughed and let the team get to the changing rooms. They tossed compliments and criticisms back and forth. Cho said nothing to anyone, and, when Roger Davies left to return to the castle, he still hadn't said a word to Cho.  
  
She waited until she was the last in the changing room. It was satisfying to have won her first Quidditch match, and to hear Madam Hooch's words of praise, but she still wished the Gryffindor Seeker had been there to watch.  
  
When she left to return to the castle, a man was waiting for her. An old man, wearing a sweater in Hufflepuff yellow and black. Then she noticed the faded patch on the front, of a wasp with rampant stinger, and remembered that Wimbourne's Quidditch team shared Hufflepuff's colours.  
  
She momentarily blanked out on the name, untli the old man spoke: "Didn't expect old Gridpipe, did ye?"  
  
"Oh! I mean, I asked my mother to mention the match to you. I just wasn't sure that she did."  
  
"Well, she did, and it was a pleasure watching youngsters play the game again. There's something there that the professionals lose, somewhere along the way. But you, you're near professional yourself. That was a fine bit of flying."  
  
Cho shook her head. "No; no, it wasn't. I was off my game. I was being distracted, thinking about other things. I wasn't playing with my head."  
  
"Oh, I could see that, right enough," Gridpipe smiled. "But you played with your heart, and that's the important thing."  
  
Cho didn't know what to say for a minute. Thern she found her voice: "Are you, er, coming to the castle?"  
  
"Nope, afraid not. Love to see the old pile of rubble, but what's the point? Most of the folks I knew there are gone now: Dippet, Santorelle, Kettleburn. Dumbledore's there, of course, isn't he?" Cho nodded, but Gridpipe went right along: "Sharp as a dragon's fang he was, although he'd come up with the odd remark. I don't suppose old Grubbly-Plank is still around?"  
  
"She is, in fact. Substitutes for other teachers, mostly."  
  
"Well, you make sure to listen to her, Miss Chang. She knows more than any two of the young professors put together. Barely deserve the name, most of the lot." He stopped talking and thought for a moment. "What's today?"  
  
"Er, Saturday the fourteenth."  
  
"Ah, yes. Well, I've got some business in town, so I'll probably spend the night in the Three Broomsticks and take tomorrow's train. Are you coming home for the holidays?"  
  
"Yes, I am."  
  
"I reckon I'll see you then. Thanks again for telling me about the game, and I don't care what you say: you're still one of the best fliers I've seen. Well, better get going now." Without another word or gesture, Gridpipe turned on his heel and walked toward Hogsmeade.  
  
Cho walked back to the castle, slowly and quietly. She was working hard at containing herself, and she was successful until she entered Hogwarts. The first thing she heard were students talking and laughing over the rattle of lunch dishes. Suddenly, it was all too much for Cho. She rushed into the nearest girls' lavatory, sat herself in one of the stalls, and started crying again.  
  
After a couple of minutes, Moaning Myrtle glided through the stall door. "Reckon you lost, then?"  
  
Cho didn't answer for a minute. When she answered, it was between sobs. "No, we won."  
  
"Funny way to show it, then."  
  
"You don't understand!" Cho yelled at Myrtle, crying all the while. "I was awful! I'm not flying like I used to. I'm losing touch; I'm losing--everything." Again, she broke down into sobbing. "I almost gave the whole game away. Nobody'll care because I caught the Snitch, but I know better. And Roger knows better. I just know he's going to throw me off the team!"  
  
Again Cho's crying was undisturbed for a few minutes. Then Myrtle puit her hands on her ghostly hips: "This is all about your Cedric, isn't it?"  
  
"It is," Cho sniffled, "and it isn't."  
  
"Fine; don't tell me. Poor old Myrtle takes the time to listen, and nobody ever considers her--"  
  
"Stop that!" Cho took a deep breath. "I know he's dead, even though I still love him more than I can say. But I know I have to move on, and ... I have."  
  
"You mean Potter."  
  
Cho's red eyes went wide. "What--how much do you know--"  
  
"From what I've heard, it's hard to miss."  
  
Cho looked down at her nails. "He seems to have missed it."  
  
"Look, he may be the Boy Who Lived, but that still makes him a boy. They say girls mature faster; well, it only seems that way, because most boys are so awfully thick!" Myrtle gave a ghostly chuckle. "What I've seen these last few decades..."  
  
"Myrtle, I'm sorry, but I'd better get back now." Cho wiped her eyes on her robes, then went to wash her face in the sink. Didn't help much, she thought, looking at herself in the mirror. "Myrtle? What should I do?"  
  
"About Potter?" Cho nodded. "Just do what you were going to do anyway. If it works out, good on you. If it doesn't, it might still give the rest of us a bit of a giggle."  
  
Horrid girl, Cho thought; she deserved to die. Cho turned away from Myrtle and left the lavatory.  
  
The door of the furthest stall opened, and out stepped Hermione Granger, a very concerned look on her face.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 18, wherein Cho hears Roger's verdict on her flying and spends thirty minutes with Harry... 


	18. The Room of Requirement

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SIXTH YEAR  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
18. The Room of Requirement  
  
By the time she got to the west wing of the castle, Cho felt more composed, but anxiety was also growing in her. Her stomach felt full of pixies; pixies with many tiny but very sharp teeth. She knew the Common Room would be full to overflowing with well-wishers, congratulating her on her win. Snacks and butterbeer would be shoved toward her, she might even have to make a speech...  
  
Or perhaps the others wouldn't speak to her at all, because of her tears and moodiness; being an island in a sea of reveling Ravenclaws would be the worst feeling, as if she didn't belong regardless of catching the Snitch. Besides, in the past twelve months she had found herself attached to two different boys--very different, but she had wanted each of them to see her get her first win. But one hadn't been there to see it, and the other could no longer see anything at all...  
  
Before she won this, her first winning match, she would have reveled in the attention, in being a House celebrity. Not now.   
  
She stopped by the hospital wing to take a few deep breaths. She had cried herself out in Moaning Myrtle's loo just now, but she wanted to compose herself anyway. She wasn't about to break down in front of the entire House.  
  
As she climbed the broad, curving staircase in the West Tower that led to the gigantic tapestry of the goddess Athena, behind which lay Ravenclaw House, she realized that she still didn't know what would happen, but decided to brave it out regardless. She readied the week's password "euphonious" on her lips...  
  
Roger Davies.  
  
He was standing next to the tapestry, leaning casually against the wall, not looking at anything in particular. But Cho knew he was waiting for her.  
  
"Keeping out the party-crashers, then?" Cho asked first.  
  
Roger pointed up the stairs with his head. "Step over here for a bit, please."  
  
For a second, Cho couldn't move at all. This is it, she thought, I'm off the team. She swallowed, then followed Roger up the steps until they were out of sight of the tapestry.  
  
As soon as they were, Roger turned to her. "Right, then; let's have it."  
  
"Have what?"  
  
"The explanation."  
  
Cho looked down at her feet and spoke barely above a whisper. "There is no explanation. I'll go tell Madam Hooch now; best to do it quick."  
  
"Tell her what?"  
  
"That I'm off the team."  
  
"You are no such a thing!" Cho looked up to see that Roger was beaming. "You won the match for us! What kind of a sausage are you?"  
  
"But, but we both know I was awful today! I almost lost the match! I wasn't concentrating, I wasn't--"  
  
Roger held up a hand to silence Cho. "If you know all that already," he smiled, "there's no need for me to say it all again, is there?"   
  
Cho couldn't believe it. She felt sure that Roger would tear into her like a hungry hippogriff, and now--  
  
"Look, Cho," he interrupted her thoughts, "I'm your Captain, but also your friend. Everyone knew your first match back would be rough. Practices just aren't the same as the crowds, the noise, the whole non-stop chaos of it all. And when we saw we'd be playing Hufflepuff first, well... I can't imagine what was going through your mind, and I don't think I want to. You showed more courage than most just getting out there today; that you flew as well as you did was a bloody miracle."  
  
"Roger--"  
  
"Not another word! You can run yourself down later, but you're not about to ruin the party for the House. So, are you ready for your second ordeal of the day: three cheers and a glass of punch?"  
  
Cho almost laughed in spite of herself. Roger could still do that to her, but this was the first time he'd tried to make her laugh since the Tournament. "Ready as I'll ever be," she smiled at him.  
  
They walked back to the tapestry, then passed under it and into Ravenclaw House.  
  
xxx  
  
With the Christmas holidays approaching, the faculty generally ignored lessons. There were always exceptions, like Binns (if death couldn't shake him loose from the syllabus, why should a holiday?) and Snape (who seemed to be the dead opposite of "tidings of comfort and joy"). But others like Flitwick, Idylwyld, Sinistra and even McGonagall relented, letting their young charges revert to being the children that they were.  
  
Cho didn't count Dark Arts with Umbridge, since all she did in Umbridge's class anyway was reread her Chinese notes about Dumbledore's Army, and daydream about her green-eyed teacher... Umbridge would be on the last day of the term, Friday the 20th, and the next day she'd be on the Hogwarts Express going home.  
  
But there was, according to the enchanted Galleon in her pocket, one more meeting of the Army: Wednesday night at 8.  
  
xxx  
  
Cho and Marietta were among the last ones to arrive at the room. Marietta was writing a last scroll home before the break, and Cho didn't want to go up without her. As Cho came to love the meetings more and more, Marietta seemed more and more put out by them. It was only her obligation as Cho's Prefect that kept her going. Cho was worried that, after the New Year, Marietta would stop altogether.  
  
Shortly after they arrived, Harry announced that the meeting would be a review session. Zacharias Smith, as usual, complained, and one of the Weasley twins made a joke of it. Cho laughed, delighted that Smith had been defeated twice in one week: on the Quidditch pitch and now here in the class.  
  
They practiced Impediments, Stunning, Disarming--all of the defensive spells they'd worked on since October. Cho kept telling Marietta that she had quite improved; Marietta didn't mention it, but Cho herself had also improved--well, so had many of the students there. As they rested after a Stunning session, Cho looked around the room. It wasn't just about magic any longer, she realized; she was feeling something toward everyone there: an unexpected cameraderie. It wasn't just learning the spells together; it was knowing that they were all--even know-all Granger and malcontent Smith and the bizarre Luna Lovegood--they were all part of something larger. Maybe they were an Army after all, Cho thought, formed to do battle with Voldemort...  
  
"It's time, Cho," Marietta urged, tugging at Cho's sleeve.  
  
"No, you go on," she replied. There was something she'd meant to say for months now, and this was the last chance to say it before the holidays...  
  
Marietta had a scowl on her face. "Be quick about it," she whispered harshly to Cho as she left the classroom.  
  
Soon they were the last two in the room, as Cho had wanted, and perhaps as Harry wanted, too, because he was fussing about with the cushions. How strange the world is, Cho thought. This time last year, I was a friend of Cedric's, nothing more, and I waited and waited for Harry to ask me to the Yule Ball, but Cedric asked first, and--  
  
It was happening again, but this time she didn't try to stop it. It wasn't just about Cedric being dead; it was also about Harry being alive, and her heart caught between them--  
  
She knew her eyes were tearing and her nose was running, but she held off until she couldn't hold off any longer and sniffled, trying to clear her nose. She knew she looked a fright now, but she saw the concern on Harry's face as he asked, "What--what's up?"  
  
Cho wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her robes. "I'm sorry. I suppose it's ... just ... learning all this stuff. It just makes me wonder ... whether ... if he'd known it all, he'd still be alive."  
  
As soon as she said it, she was sorry. She remembered what Harry'd said in Hogsmeade that day; that he didn't want to talk about Cedric. It was probably still true. But, before Cho could apologize, Harry answered her:  
  
"He did know this stuff. He was really good at it, or he could never have got to the middle of that maze. But if Voldemort really wants to kill you, you don't stand a chance."  
  
"You survived, when you were just a baby." Cho mentally punched herself in the head. Damn Ravenclaw; you want to TALK with him, not find the logic holes in his arguments!  
  
Harry just sighed, as if he was thoroughly tired of being the Boy Who Lived. "Yeah, well, I don't know why; nor does anyone else, so it's nothing to be proud of." He turned toward the door.  
  
"Oh, don't go!" You have to stop him! Cho yelled within herself. You have to get this back on the broom. Tell him you're not just another fan of the Boy Who Lived! Her tears started up again, but these were tears of frustration; finally, she was talking one-on-one with Harry, and it was all falling apart. "I'm really sorry to get all upset like this; I didn't mean to." Again she tried to wipe her eyes with her sleeve. "I know it must be horrible for you, me mentioning Cedric, when you saw him die. I suppose you just want to forget about it."  
  
Drop the subject! she yelled to herself. He didn't want to talk about Cedric in October; he doesn't want to now! SHUT UP ABOUT CEDRIC!  
  
But Harry didn't move. Cho had expected a flash of the anger he showed at the Hog's Head. Instead he just stood there, facing toward the door but not moving.  
  
Tell him, Cho; tell him how you feel!  
  
"You're a really good teacher, you know," Cho said, smiling and half afraid of how silly she looked, smiling through red eyes and a tear-streaked face. "I've never been able to Stun anything before."  
  
She fretted about the words even as they left her mouth, not knowing how Harry would take the compliment. Fortunately, he just looked down at his trainers, one of which seemed to be tracing patterns on the floor. Then, he looked up with those amazing green eyes, smiled slightly and said a barely audible "Thanks."  
  
Cho's smile got fractionally larger as she looked at Harry, at the face that, even four years on, still looked childlike, still looked the way he did when she snuck into the hospital wing to see him during his First Year.  
  
She looked up; it had only just caught her eye, but Harry was standing under a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. She'd learned more than she ever wanted to learn about it in Third Year Herbology, and surely so did Harry: that it was believed to bestow fertility and feelings of peace, and was a protection against poison, that warring nations and battling lovers could find reconciliation under its influence. Then there was the old magic that a woman, standing under mistletoe and being kissed, would find either true love or deep and abiding friendship. Well, Harry was the one standing under it, but this was no time to stand on ceremony.  
  
She pointed up at the ceiling and her smile widened just a little bit more. "Mistletoe," she said, barely above a whisper.  
  
Harry hardly looked up, as if he'd known all along it was there. "Yeah. It's probably full of nargles, though."  
  
What?? "What are nargles?" Cho took a step forward, half-expecting to see the mistletoe infested with some sort of bizarre insect.  
  
"No idea," Harry shrugged. "You'd have to ask Loony." Cho must have frowned; no matter how eccentric Lovegood was--and she was certainly eccentric enough to believe in non-existent bugs called nargles--she didn't deserve to be insulted. But Harry must have been paying attention to Cho's expression, because he quickly corrected himself: "Luna, I mean."  
  
That's better, she thought; I never thought you were mean-spirited. The way I thought about those badges last year and Cedric--   
  
Damn it, I'm doing it again! Here I am with Harry, under mistletoe! It's what I've wanted for so long; why am I afraid? And--why does he seem just as afraid as I am?  
  
Cho tried to speak, but seemed to choke on her latest bout of tears. She took another step toward Harry. She saw herself now reflected in his glasses, and saw those impossibly green eyes...  
  
Say it! Say it!!  
  
"I--really like you, Harry..." She wanted to say more, wanted to tell him how many years he had been in her heart, how she regretted not saying something sooner--and knew that, if she kept talking, she'd never stop.  
  
So she kissed Harry.  
  
Nothing; it was like kissing a toad.  
  
Cho half-sobbed, half-coughed right on Harry's lips, breaking the kiss. She crumpled to her knees on the cold stone floor, unable to stop crying, only saying over and over, between sobs, "I'm sorry, Harry; I'm so sorry."  
  
Ravenclaw; wit and learning. And here I am, the biggest damned fool in the castle! How could I dare to think it? How could I dare to hope that Harry feels something for me? Anything at all?  
  
She stayed that way for a few minutes; she'd lost all track of time. She didn't even notice when Harry knelt on the floor beside her. But, as soon as she felt the touch of his hand, hesitant and nervous, between her shoulderblades, she let out an even louder howl, grabbed tightly onto the front of Harry's robes, and rested her sobbing head on his chest. Her mind and her heart just kept shouting out the same joyous phrase:  
  
He cares! He cares!  
  
At first his hand on her back felt awkward, tapping it the way a young child would pet a cat or dog. But then, after a while, the hand stayed still on her back, then began to lightly rub it. Cho's tears began to subside; she took deep breaths and gradually calmed down.  
  
She looked into Harry's face again. He was concerned; concerned for her; she could see it. She gulped, sniffled. "I must look a fright..."  
  
"No!" Harry interrupted her, a little too loudly. Then he seemed to Cho to catch himself, looking at her again as if for the first time in his life. He repeated, more softly this time, "No, never."  
  
Cho wiped her eyes with the back of her hand now, not bothering with the robes' sleeves, which were damp with her tears anyway. "Harry," she started hesitantly, "you don't, I mean, do you think we could..." Her voice trailed off. She didn't have to finish it; Harry knew what she meant.   
  
Neither Harry nor Cho took the lead; thery moved together toward another kiss. This time their lips met, and stayed together, for almost a minute. They parted as softly and slowly as they had come together. Cho kept looking either at her hands in her lap, or at Harry's eyes. After a while, she said, simply, "Well."  
  
And Harry said, simply, "Yeh."  
  
Cho reached forward, her hand slipping neatly, welcomingly, into Harry's hand, their fingers twining. They smiled, slightly, shyly.  
  
"It..." Cho started to speak, but had to clear her throat. She lowered her voice, which sounded so loud in the empty room. "It's going to be lonely here over the break, I'm sure."  
  
"What...what do you mean?"  
  
"You're staying here for the holidays, aren't you?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "What makes you say that?"  
  
"Your name is on the list."  
  
"Oh, that! It slipped my mind when McGonagall was taking names, but my friend Ron--you know, our new Keeper--he asked me to stay with his family."  
  
"Ah. That should be nice."  
  
"Yeh. The whole family's nice, well, pretty much."  
  
"Are the twins as rough off the pitch as they are on?"  
  
"Oh, worse, a couple of non-stop jokers. Well, you've seen them in the class here."  
  
"Yes." They stayed on the floor, holding hands, sitting silently for another minute. "So, where do they live?"  
  
"A place down in Devon. They live over near the Diggorys and..." Harry froze, terror on his face. He must have expected Cho to burst into tears again, or at least shout at him.  
  
Instead, she took a deep breath, still looking down at their hands. "I'm all right, Harry," she said quietly.  
  
"Oh, okay," he said, just as quietly. They stayed seated for another minute.  
  
"So," Cho finally said, "maybe we can sit together on the train."  
  
It took Harry a minute to answer; he seemed to be weighing what his friends would think about that. But then he smiled at Cho: "Yeah, I'd like that."  
  
Harry looked down at their hands; then Cho realized that he was looking at his watch. The class had ended more than twenty minutes ago!  
  
"Um," Harry said, "maybe we'd better..."  
  
"Yes," Cho nodded, "of course."  
  
They didn't seem to like the idea of letting go of each other, but they did, and stepped out of the Room of Requirement and into the corridor. They started toward opposite ends of the corridor; both staircases would get them to their Houses, but one was closer to Ravenclaw and the other closer to Gryffindor. But Cho had taken no more than three paces toward her staircase when she stopped and turned toward Harry. He had stopped, too, and was just standing there. Cho smiled, bit her lower lip, then walked over to Harry, her hand twining with his again. They walked down the staircase holding hands.  
  
On the fourth floor landing they passed a portrait of Havelock Sweeting, one of the very few wizards to domesticate unicorns. He stood with his arm around the neck of his favorite filly, Amalthea, and watched Harry and Cho pass, saying just loud enough for them to hear, "Now isn't that a pretty picture?"  
  
Cho didn't dare look at him, yet couldn't help but smile.  
  
Harry stopped at the second floor landing. "I'm afraid I have to..." he started.  
  
"I know," she smiled. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek; she seemed to catch him by surprise, because he didn't return the kiss until a second later. "I'll see you around, Harry."  
  
"Yeh, me too."  
  
Cho smiled and walked down the corridor, looking frequently over her shoulder back at Harry, until she had to turn a corner.  
  
That was--different, Cho mused as she walked toward Ravenclaw. It certainly wasn't at all like kissing Cedric; with him, the kisses were all fog and sensation, leading her into a world she had never experienced before. With Harry, that world wasn't so overwhelming; actually, it too was unlike anything she had ever experienced.  
  
All she knew was that she would gladly explore this new world--with Harry Potter.  
  
As she walked into the Common Room, there was Marietta, reading in a comfy chair. "Is this what you call being quick about it?" she asked Cho. She clearly disapproved of whatever had happened.  
  
Cho simply smiled, turned, and all but ran up the steps to her dormitory.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 19, wherein Cho goes home for Christmas, and receives some unexpected presents... 


	19. They Came Bearing Gifts

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SIXTH YEAR  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG-13 (for language)  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
19. They Came Bearing Gifts  
  
Cho had another disturbing dream that night--one she hadn't had before. It was the Second Task, but she was the only one tied to the statue at the bottom of the lake. If there were others there, she couldn't tell; maybe they'd been freed already. She waited, patiently.  
  
After a while, she saw Harry--and Cedric. They were approaching from different directions, but both intent on rescuing Cho. Until they got within two or three yards of Cho; then, noticing each other, they attacked. Both had daggers drawn, ready to cut Cho's bonds, but, when they swam toward each other, they had their daggers brandished as weapons against each other.  
  
Cho could only watch in silence, unable to move, as Cedric brought his blade up from below, sticking Harry in his ribcage. Cho could see the blood pumping out, staining the filthy lake-water. Harry, for his part, saw that Cedric had his head inside a large glass globe; he struck the globe with the handle of the dagger. The glass shattered; Cedric let go of the dagger still in Harry's side. Cho watched as both of them struggled toward the surface.  
  
Was that it, then? Would Cho be rescued, or had she been forgotten? A crowd of merpeople began to assemble, watching Cho greedily, their open mouths showing rows of sharp, pointed teeth...  
  
As if some signal had been given, they rushed toward her, stripping off her robes, every bit of her clothing, and began sinking their teeth into her pale flesh...  
  
"HELP ME!"  
  
Cho was awake by this time, and realized she was sitting up in her dormitory bed, clutching the covers as if she meant to tear them in half. She was looking at the bed-curtains as they opened, revealing Marietta with a flagon, with some kind of sleeping draught, no doubt.  
  
Cho thought she could speak, but her mouth was suddenly dry. After clearing her throat she tried again. "Thanks, but I don't think I'll be needing that tonight."  
  
Marietta looked dubious. "You'd know, I suppose. What was that one about, then?"  
  
"It was ... Chinese; nothing to do with Cedric or the Tournament."  
  
Marietta stood there for a minute before she shrugged and closed Cho's curtains.  
  
Why did you do that? Cho scolded herself. But she knew the reason, because Marietta had a fair idea of what happened after the D.A. class was dismissed. As public as she'd been with Cedric in her affections, she wondered why she didn't feel the same about Harry.  
  
Well, they're so different, she told herself. Cedric was two years older and so self-assured. I wasn't the first girl he'd ever kissed, even though I knew that none of the others ever meant anything to him. But everything was so strange to me, so I let him guide me through it all. And he was happy to lead me.  
  
And now, here I am, a year older than Harry, and he must surely be as naive as I used to be. Shall I have to push him in the right direction? Would he be angry if I did? Should I try to be as naive as Harry? Does he expect to give me the lead?   
  
As she drifted back to sleep, she decided to "just take everything as it comes."  
  
xxx  
  
As she prepared for class in the morning she was almost singing; the dream of the night before had been replaced by memories of Harry and the kiss. She'd try to catch up with Harry again; maybe make some arrangements about meeting during the holidays--if Harry's going to be with the Weasleys, near Ottery St. Catchpole, maybe Cho could find a day to Floo over to the Fawcetts, or even the Lovegoods. Merlin only knows what kind of Christmas tree Luna would have at her house, though; possibly a Mimbulus. With Luna Lovegood, nothing was impossible.  
  
But, although Cho was early to breakfast and lingered for an hour, Harry never showed. Nor was he there for lunch. She knew she couldn't just sit there; she had to find out what was happening. Did Harry have second thoughts? Was he avoiding her? Who would tell her the truth of it?  
  
At that moment Hermione Granger walked into the Great Hall, reading up on Ancient Runes as she walked. Cho hesitated, then walked over to intercept Hermione. "Excuse me."  
  
"Oh! Hello, Cho."  
  
"Have you..." and Cho realized she was blushing but couldn't stop it, "have you seen Harry anywhere about?"  
  
"Ah! You won't have heard. He, erm, left late last night."  
  
"Left?!"  
  
"Yes. We'd, erm, heard that Ron Weasley's father got into a terrible accident and was in hospital. Ron had to go back home right away, and Harry went with him."  
  
"Is it serious?"  
  
"The Healers were still working on him, last I heard. But I think he'll be just fine."  
  
"Are you ... going to see him, then?"  
  
"Oh, no, that is, I'm off with my parents to the French Alps. We'll be doing a bit of skiing."  
  
"That's nice."  
  
They stood facing each other, each apparently waiting for the other to say something. Finally, Cho said, "Well, I'd better get to class. Happy Christmas."  
  
"Same to you," Hermione said as Cho was already headed out the door.  
  
As Hermione Granger watched Cho leave the Great Hall, she started turning over and over in her mind what she had just done, and why she'd done it.  
  
She didn't think of it as lying to Cho. Dumbledore had sent for her first thing in the morning and laid out the whole awful story about Harry and Arthur Weasley and the serpent. She'd dashed off a scroll to her parents immediately on returning to Gryffindor, making her excuses, saying she'd stay at Hogwarts while actually preparing to take the Knight Bus to Grimmauld Place the instant term ended. In any case, she lied to her parents--and just now lied to Cho--because Hermione knew that Harry Potter was far more important at the moment.  
  
Not that she felt anything like love for Harry Potter; Merlin forbid! They were friends, and Harry was one of the few people at Hogwarts she could call a friend. She couldn't help being herself, but so many of her schoolmates saw her as a bossy, insufferable know-all. That included Harry and Ron Weasley at times.  
  
But Harry and Cho? It just wasn't right. Harry was so ... complicated, caught up in being the Boy Who Lived, in seeing Cedric murdered and Voldemort brought back before his very eyes--seeing his own mother be killed for his sake, if it came to that, even though he was too young to remember or even understand.  
  
Of course, Cho had her own complications, of a totally different kind. She obviously had feelings for Harry; Hermione could sense it months ago, in the office where they gathered before the Second Task. She has a lot to work through, poor thing, but so does Harry, and does he really need anyone in his life so--complicated? Perhaps they'd both benefit from some time apart--well, perhaps the kiss put the kibosh on that possibility altogether. And now she probably WILL want to see him outside the DA meetings. Personally, though, Hermione thought, I wouldn't shed a tear if they didn't get together.  
  
xxx  
  
By the time the holiday rolled around, everyone seemed glad to desert the school--or perhaps it was just about getting away from Umbridge. The sleds that took them to the station moved at a brisk pace, and those with upperclassmen seemed quieter than usual, since they knew now exactly what pulled those sleds. Luna apparently knew about the thestrals years ago, and couldn't stop commenting on them, whether anyone was listening or not.  
  
Cho stopped listening before they got to the station; it was what one did with Luna. She had other things to worry about. She'd found presents for her parents in Hogsmeade in October; that was one less worry. But now the holidays, and whatever might happen. It would be just like Voldemort to fire off a salvo in a new wizarding war just at Christmas...  
  
She sat in a compartment full of mostly younger Ravenclaws, but they didn't say a word to her and she didn't say anything to them. She couldn't tell anyone the one thing she wanted to shout from the top of the Astronomy Tower: that she had kissed Harry Potter, that he had kissed her, that they were in love--weren't they?  
  
Cho didn't really understand what was happening, and didn't understand why she didn't understand. After all, she'd been down this road with Cedric, hadn't she? Why was the path so unrecognizable now?  
  
Cedric; would anyone say anything about that? Surely not; it had been almost six months exactly since Cedric was killed; probably what they call a "decent interval." The only ones who might think ill of her would be lowlife belly-crawling dust-eating Slytherins, and they never liked her anyway, or Cedric.  
  
So why didn't she say anything?  
  
Because she was certain of one thing: this was all still uncertain. It was still too new, too unsettled. She had hoped that, after the kiss, she and Harry could have the Nice Long Talk; discuss their hopes, their fears, their dreams, and she could tell him how she'd fancied him since their first match, and find out from him whether he felt the same. They'd talk about their plans for life after Hogwarts, about their families...  
  
and there's a real problem, Cho thought as she felt her heart chill. Mother didn't approve of Cedric at all. Harry is far more accomplished a wizard, even as young as he is; is she going to object because he, too, isn't Chinese? Or is she going to take over the whole relationship, taking the credit at some future date for bringing us together in the first place, never giving us a bit of rest; how can I possibly tell her yet?  
  
At one point she took to pacing the train's corridors for an hour, trying to settle her tossed emotions. All that accomplished was that she passed Luna Lovegood coming and going, causing Luna, who only wanted to help, to suggest an extract of medusa venom mixed with chalk from the Dover cliffs to settle her nerves.  
  
"I'll, erm, remember that when I'm in town. Excuse me, Luna, you live near the Weasley's, don't you?"  
  
She nodded. "I'm in Ottery St. Catchpole, you know, and the Burrow is just over the hills."  
  
"Yes. Well, have you heard anything about Mister Weasley being in hospital?"  
  
"No, I haven't." She took a quick look around, then lowered her voice. "But my father has."  
  
"And?"  
  
"Well, the Prophet won't breathe a word of it, but my father has his sources, and he says that a great monster snake almost killed Mister Weasley! And you'll never guess where..."  
  
"Where, then?"  
  
"In the Ministry itself!" Luna looked triumphant; Cho must have looked confused, so Luna went right on: "Fudge's been buying these great monstrous poisonous snakes from Draco Malfoy's dad--he breeds 'em under Malfoy Manor, you know. Then Fudge sets them all along the corridors after hours. To protect--things."  
  
"Such as what?"  
  
"Oh, all the nasty little secrets Fudge keeps as Minister of Magic. My dad tells me there are whole suites of rooms in the Ministry that are like Gringott vaults; it's worth your life to be anywhere near them."  
  
Cho's head was starting to spin, partly from not having lunch yet but also from this story. "But Mister Weasley..."  
  
"Still in Saint Mungo's. Right as dodgers except his snakebite won't heal. Something Dark that Malfoy Senior bred into the snakes' venom."  
  
Cho couldn't think of anything to say except, "Ah." After a pause, "Well, thanks for clearing that up. Happy Christmas, Luna."  
  
"Dinosaurs, Cho."  
  
"Beg your pardon?"  
  
"There's dinosaur bones in the White Cliffs, millions of years old. That's what evens out the medusa venom and makes the potion so effective."  
  
"Oh. Thanks again."  
  
"Happy Christmas, Cho!" And, for no apparent reason, Luna turned and ran up the corridor.  
  
xxx  
  
Cho dreaded what would happen at King's Cross. So far, absolutely nothing was happening over the holiday that was according to plan. Since the kiss and finding out that Harry was not stuck in Hogwarts after all, she'd hoped that they could ride up together on the Hogwarts Express, maybe see each other once or twice over the holidays--even if it meant going to the Weasleys in Devon. But this accident, or whatever had happened to Mr. Weasley, ruled that out. The train trip turned out to be glum and lonely, interrupted only by the bizarre exchange with Luna about killer snakes in the Ministry of Magic. Merlin only knew what the rest of the holidays would be like.  
  
When she got off the train with a suitcase and Quan Yin in her cage, there was Lotus Chang. She didn't even speak to Cho until they were through the barrier and halfway to the taxi stand.  
  
"I'm going to tell you something, and I'm telling you here, because I don't want a scene."  
  
Cho's jaw was already clenched as she stared straight ahead. "What is it, mother?"  
  
"We're having people over for Christmas Eve."  
  
Who could it be; some other teenaged (or older) Chinese wizard Cho was supposed to be betrothed to? "Anyone I know, mother?"  
  
"Celia and Amos Diggory."  
  
The thud of Cho's suitcase hitting the floor, and the clatter of the cage and the screech of the owl inside it, echoed from one end of King's Cross to the other.  
  
xxx  
  
For the next three days Lotus and Cho were either waiting on customers in the shoppe, where they maintained a stony silence toward each other, or they screamed at each other in Chinese. Screamed was the only possible word for it: their voices were high, shrill, very loud and very angry.  
  
"You know how I feel about them!" Cho would scream. "I told you what he said about me!"  
  
"And YOU know what we told you about your father's business!" her mother would scream back. "If you can't put your feelings aside for one night, then your going to Hogwarts was for nothing! Your being Sorted into Ravenclaw was for nothing! You are too stupid to survive in the world!"  
  
Nothing was thrown, however, and, after the three days of screaming, they settled into a frozen quiet. Cho knew, after all, that this was a matter of business. Chang Xiemin had arranged his Ministry contract through Amos Diggory, and pretended not to know that Amos had refused to allow his son Cedric to even think of marrying Cho, pretended not to know that Amos had called Cho a "squinty-eyed little alien." It was part of the price of doing business. He would make it up to Cho with this year's present--he hoped.  
  
Cho knew what she wanted from her parents for Christmas: nothing. Absolutely nothing. She'd gotten her mother a new peach-coloured lounging-robe (not that Lotus Chang ever did anything like lounging, but Cho hoped that someday she would take the hint), and for her father had found a somewhat worn but still intact and interesting copy of the "Zoologicum Fantasticum" from 1585. She was glad enough to give these presents, but didn't want anything from the people who sprung the Diggorys on her.  
  
Cho was working the shop on Christmas Eve. They didn't do as much business as, say Quality Quidditch Supplies during the holidays, but there always seemed to be some wizarding family or other realizing at the last moment that some important potion was lacking a key ingredient. Holiday requests always seemed to be very odd, and their purchasers in a hurry.  
  
Just at sunset a humpbacked hag dashed into the shoppe. She couldn't even straighten up to look Cho in the eye, but simply barked out, "A pound of belladonna and two ounces of powdered manticore horn! And be quick about it; I have to be back in twenty minutes or the whole batch is worthless!"  
  
A typical holiday customer. Cho quickly and quietly filled her order, took the hag's Sickles, then opened the door for her to leave. It was when she opened the door that she saw them.  
  
She couldn't tell how long they'd been standing on the other side of Diagon Alley, just looking at the shoppe. But a light snow had started falling around noon, and they had to have been standing in the open for at least five minutes, judging from the snow on their robes. When they saw the door open, they started across the road. Cho stayed rooted to the spot as they came in.  
  
Celia Diggory had seemed a patient and kindly woman when Cho met her in June, but also with reserves of strength. Not now; her eyes seemed hollow, almost as lifeless as if she was under Imperium. And Amos-- the brown whiskers were now shot through with silver, he must have lost twenty pounds, and his cheeks were ruddier than usual. As they passed her coming into the shoppe, Cho could smell the reason for Amos Diggory's ruddy complexion: firewhiskey. It was then Cho noticed that Celia held Amos's arm, and was using it to steer him.  
  
Cho locked the shoppe door, drew the curtain and went upstairs, telling her mother simply, "They're here."  
  
Lotus, who had been setting the table, simply said, "Change into your dress robes."  
  
"Mother, I'm not..."  
  
"We have company, and that means your dress robes. Now!"  
  
Cho stared at her mother, unbelieving, then turned and went to her bedroom. In her wardrobe, where it had hung since she unpacked it in June, were her dress robes: pale blue, with a string of pearls in the pocket. She hadn't worn it since the night she danced with Cedric Diggory.  
  
She put on the robes, felt the pearls, pulled them out and threw them on the bed. She also felt the black lacquered comb in her pocket; although her hair was now much shorter, she could still use it to gather her hair into a tight, severe bun on the back of her head. When she was done, she looked in the mirror.  
  
It was what she wore last Christmas, but the dress was on a very different girl.  
  
I won't cry for him tonight, she swore to herself. I won't cry.  
  
She was too angry to cry.  
  
xxx  
  
Dinner was a little strained. Cho's parents and Celia Diggory tried to keep up small talk, much of it centering on the food (which featured roast beef and a goose prepared in the manner of Peking duck) and events mentioned in the Prophet. Once or twice Cho's father (addressed as James, the Anglo name he used for business purposes) would try to get a comment out of Amos Diggory, but Amos sat sullenly at the table, picking at the food on his plate, and had to be prompted by his wife for even a word or two.  
  
Cho refused to say a word unless she absolutely had to.  
  
They moved from the dining room to the parlour for coffee and dessert (pumpkin parfait). By this time, the atmosphere had thawed a bit, and Amos even joined in the conversation on his own, although he only spoke a word or two when he did. Cho sat apart from the grown-ups and was seldom addressed by them now. She preferred that. Wearing her dress robes for the first time since the Yule Ball was torture, like the nightmare about the machine that carved her crime into her back. It was all she could do to sit silently through dinner without screaming at the constant reminder of what she had felt, what she had lost...  
  
"Well, I think Christmas has always been a bit of an imperfect fit for us all," Lotus was chatting away as she poured more coffee for Celia. "Just a bit too Muggle. Halloween has always been more to the point. Although when she was young, about five or six..."  
  
She wouldn't, would she?  
  
"...Cho was in a Muggle school at the time, a very good one..."  
  
Don't do it, mother.  
  
"...put her little hand up and told them she'd written a Halloween song."  
  
"Really? How clever," Celia Diggory gave a small smile and a nervous glance at Cho.  
  
"Well, she's Ravenclaw, after all," Lotus smiled. "Although the Ministry had to do a little bit of Memory Modification. Cho, dear, you remember that song, don't you?"  
  
"I ... I don't think I do, mother."  
  
"Of course you remember it," Lotus said, her smile a bit more metallic. "Give it a try, then."  
  
She had dreaded just this: a nightmare while she was awake. She swallowed, and started in a small voice, with the words she had matched as a child to the song about King Wenceslas:  
  
"Bad old You-Know-Who is dead,  
  
Thanks to Harry Potter.  
  
We lived lives of fear and dread,  
  
Now we needn't bother.  
  
He..."  
  
She stopped. "That's all I can remember."  
  
"Nonsense," her mother said proudly. "Go on, then."  
  
"STOP IT!" Cho was on her feet before she realized it. She'd held herself in for two hours, since the Diggorys arrived, and she'd finally reached her limit. "Stop pretending that that song is anything but a lie! Do you want to know what Hogwarts did for Halloween this year? Nothing; absolutely nothing! No banquet, no special entertainment. The Ministry can say what it likes; the Prophet can say what it likes, but Dumbledore knows the truth of it: Voldemort is alive."  
  
"CHO!" Lotus looked as if Cho had just torn her robes off.  
  
"Stop putting on an act, mother; you know the truth of it!"  
  
"Fudge."  
  
Everyone turned to look at Amos Diggory. This was the first word he'd spoken in twenty minutes. He sat on a sofa next to his wife, staring straight ahead.  
  
"Fudge," he repeated. "Bagman. Crouch. You work with these people for years. And you trust them. You put your life in their hands, and the lives of everyone you love, because they tell you they know what they're doing." Tears started rolling down his cheeks. "So you swallow your tongue, and you keep still, and you trust the ones who say they know better ... and it all turns to shit." Amos completely broke down, covering his face with his hands and sobbing uncontrollably.  
  
"There, there, old man," Cho's father said, walking over to Amos and putting a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Cho," Lotus said pointedly, glaring at her daughter, "show Missus Diggory the rest of the flat, won't you?"  
  
Lotus was plainly dismissing them. Celia was already standing by the door. Cho opened it and swept past her, not even caring if she followed.  
  
But Mrs. Diggory followed, and the two simply stood in the hallway. "I suppose you've seen the flat before?" Cho asked.  
  
Celia Diggory nodded. "Your mother's going to prepare a potion for him; she's done it before." She hesitated; when she spoke again, her voice was heavy with emotion. "You have to believe me, I didn't mean for things to turn out like this."  
  
"Nor did I." Cho rounded angrily on Mrs. Diggory. "My wish was to be with Cedric. Your wish was that I have nothing to do with him. At least one of us got what we wanted." Cho turned her back and started upstairs to her room.  
  
"Cho!"  
  
Cho stopped, hesitated, then turned. Celia Diggory, now also crying openly, stood holding out a yellow envelope toward Cho. Cho recognized it as Cedric's special stationary, in Hufflepuff yellow.  
  
"Cedric..." Her voice cracked, but then she continued. "Cedric gave us this, just before the Third Task. We wanted you to see it before we left, but you wouldn't see us. Please take it: he wrote it for us, but I'm sure he meant it for you."  
  
The little food Cho had eaten at dinner felt as if it had turned into a lead cauldron in her stomach. She reached out for the envelope in Celia Diggory's trembling hand, but just as she touched it...  
  
"Celia!"  
  
Lotus. Mrs. Diggory let go of the envelope, turned and went back into the parlour, wiping her eyes and trying to compose herself.  
  
Cho stared for a minute at the envelope, at the handwriting she thought she'd never see again, then thrust the envelope into a pocket of her robes and followed Mrs. Diggory.  
  
Celia Diggory was again on the sofa next to her husband, talking softly to him while he stared at his hands in his lap.  
  
"Will he be all right?" Cho's father asked. "I really think he's in no condition to Apparate."  
  
"Don't worry," Celia said. "My mother still lives in town, and we were going to spend tomorrow with her anyway. We'll just be early, is all."  
  
"Perhaps you can get a room at the Leaky Cauldron," Lotus suggested.  
  
"On Christmas Eve? I don't think so. We'll be fine. We," Celia hesitated. "We've done this before."  
  
So they all went down together to see the Diggorys off. Amos wasn't saying anything, and probably felt thoroughly ashamed. Cho's parents exchanged pleasantries with the Diggorys at the door, but the moment they were gone, Cho ran upstairs to her room, slammed and locked the door, tore off her dress robes and threw them in the corner. She couldn't have stood the feel of them against her skin one more minute.  
  
xxx  
  
Breakfast on Christmas morning was just as quiet as dinner had been the night before. Lotus seemed to have more than a few opinions she wanted to express to her daughter, but was apparently holding her tongue in honour of the season. Cho was doing the same. Chang Xiemin expected that one or both of them would explode around sundown.  
  
Just when breakfast ended, and before anyone could suggest opening presents, there was a loud knock on the shoppe door.  
  
"I'll get it," Cho said quickly, and was up and dashing down the stairs before either of her parents could say anything.  
  
Cho welcomed the interruption. Having the Diggorys over was bad enough, with their constant reminder of their opposition to Cedric seeing her. Last night, she realized something she hadn't wanted to realize: how badly Cedric's death was still hurting them. She didn't like to think that they had any common ground at all. It was so much easier to think of them as monsters...  
  
Cho saw a young witch at the door; she looked to be about thirty years old, and had a tanned complexion. She was tightly bundled up in winter cloaks, as if she wasn't used to the cold of London.  
  
Cho opened the door, but didn't ask the witch to step inside.  
  
The witch looked at a scrap of paper. "Would you be Cho Chang, then?" she asked in a rather broad accent.  
  
"I am."  
  
"Ah; well, then. I'm Amanda Tewksbury; my husband and I are in town from Auckland, New Zealand. My great-uncle Gridpipe works down at Quality Quidditch."  
  
"Ah, yes," Cho smiled, remembering how he had taken the train to Hogwarts to see her play just a few weeks earlier. "How is he?"  
  
"Not very good, I'm afraid. His liver hasn't been in the best of shape for years now, and his heart's starting to go; he entered Saint Mungo's a couple of days ago. We think it's just a matter of time now."  
  
"I'm ... sorry," Cho said, no longer sure what to say.  
  
"Don't be," Tewksbury said with a half-smile. "He's had a good long run. And he said there was only one thing he wanted to accomplish in his last days, and this is it." She reached into her pocket, pulled out a small box and handed it to Cho. "Happy Christmas, then."  
  
Before Cho could utter a single word, the witch turned and walked off.  
  
"Who was that?" her father called from the top of the stairs.  
  
"A present from..." Cho didn't finish the sentence. She had seen a bit of parchment sticking out from under the lid of the box. When she pulled it out, it turned out to be part of a letter.  
  
"Dear Miss Chang,  
  
They say I haven't many days left, but please don't weep for me. I've had a wonderful long life, and spent most of my days in the sport of Quidditch. A few wars and things were just minor interruptions. And now, before I pass through the Veil, there's something I've got to do. In the box you're holding is something I've treasured for years. And, since I have no son to leave it to, and since I know how much heart you bring to the sport, I feel it will rest easiest if it rests with you.  
  
Remember that Quidditch is only as great as the hearts of those who play it. Think fondly of an old man, who spent a Saturday morning watching young wizards and witches at Quidditch, and saw in them something of his own youth.  
  
Sigismond Gridpipe"  
  
"What's going on?" Cho's parents, hearing nothing, had come downstairs to the shoppe. They saw their daughter finish reading a scroll, then look carefully into a small box. She turned toward them, her eyes as wide as they'd ever seen her, as she held the box out toward them. Inside was a small mettalic ball, just larger than a walnut. This one, however, was slightly larger than normal; it was a Snitch used in regulation play earlier in the century. Except that words had been engraved onto this Snitch:  
  
Good game, Gridpipe  
  
Eunice Murray  
  
5 May 1937  
  
xxx  
  
All during lunch, Cho told her parents about her meeting Gridpipe just before the World Cup, and about his coming to Hogwarts to see her play a few weeks ago. From there, she went on to tell everything she could think of about Eunice Murray, who her parents only knew by reputation--but that was still enough for them to be impressed by the gift of an autographed Snitch.  
  
"So," her father said in a deliberately offhand manner, "we could sell that for, what, a couple hundred Galleons?"  
  
"Thousands, more likely, and you're NOT selling it!" Cho was sure her father was teasing her--reasonably sure.  
  
"Then it's going into Gringott's first thing tomorrow," Lotus said firmly. "Just imagine if the cat thought it was a new toy!"  
  
"I still can't believe it," Cho said, looking into the box for the hundredth time during lunch. She hadn't let the Snitch out of arm's reach since it arrived.  
  
"Yes," Lotus replied, "that little hunk of enchanted metal could put you through Hogwarts next year."  
  
"While we're on the subject," Cho's father said, pushing himself away from the table, "let's get the gifts out of the way right now."  
  
He led his family into the den, where Cho saw that there were noticeably fewer gifts under the tree this year. His gifts to her parents, and their gifts to each other; that was all. The gifts had all been given in five minutes, and Cho had gotten nothing.  
  
Her parents had never done this before; given her nothing. Even during a bad patch of business years earlier, Cho had at least been given a book. Had she done something to make them angry?  
  
"Have a seat, Cho."  
  
Cho, who was already seated on the floor by the tree, seemed puzzled.  
  
"In the chair, dear," Lotus said. "This is important."  
  
A very curious Cho did as she was told.  
  
"This year," began her father, "business has been better than usual, thanks to the Ministry contract. We've been in a better position than usual to buy you, well, just about anything you wanted for Christmas. But, Cho, I'm sorry to bring it up, but this year has taught us that, sometimes, what's most important isn't a thing, isn't something you can buy or sell or give away."  
  
Cho nodded. Her father seemed to be talking about Cedric, but she was utterly confused as to where this was going.  
  
"We have to be honest with you," her mother continued the speech. "We may not have approved of your playing Quidditch at Hogwarts, but we've seen and heard you work at it for the past six years, work more diligently than anything you've ever done in your life. We've kept in touch with your Professor Hooch, who told us of your skills; we've spoken with your old Captain Culligan..."  
  
"You've talked to Mackie?" Cho burst out.  
  
"He came by the shoppe about a year ago, during the Tournament," said her father. "We struck up a conversation, and he told us everything you neglected to tell us. Regarding your tryouts, I mean."  
  
Cho now knew; this wasn't really a Christmas present, it was an Inquisition. Her face burned as she looked down at her clenched hands. "If you knew I'd broken bones during the tryout, I thought you'd tell me I could never be on the team."  
  
"Nonsense," Lotus said, as if the thought would never have crossed her mind. "We know Quidditch is a rough sport, and that these things are bound to happen. But if you refused to let broken bones dissuade you from playing, we knew exactly how serious you were. As I was saying," she arched an eyebrow at Cho, "we've spoken with Culligan, with Hooch, with your Professor Flitwick to verify that your studies haven't been suffering. I suppose what decided things for us was meeting poor Mister Gridpipe. The way he spoke about how you played the other day, and your obvious knowledge of Quidditch and love of the game, you would have thought he was an uncle."  
  
"I know you have one more year at Hogwarts," her father said, taking an envelope out of a desk drawer. "But at the end of this year, I am going to give you this letter, which you will deliver personally. I'll keep it until then. It's addressed to Philander Dreadly."  
  
Philander Dreadly?! "The manager of the Tornadoes??"  
  
"It's a reminder of something he and I spoke of a little while ago. This summer, in addition to your usual work with the team, he is going to give you a tryout."  
  
Cho was glad she was sitting down, because she felt everything go limp. This wasn't happening; her parents, who had threatened to disown her when she said she wanted to play Quidditch at Hogwarts, had arranged an audition with her favorite team...  
  
"You're welcome, I'm sure," Lotus said archly.  
  
As she did when she found out they were going to the World Cup, Cho launched herself out of her chair and threw herself at her parents, trying to hug them both at once. Her father allowed one hug, then got up from the sofa, muttering something about seeing "what the cat has gotten up to," and left the parlour.  
  
Cho realized that she was actually sitting on her mother's lap; something she couldn't ever remember doing, even as an infant. And Lotus didn't seem to mind.  
  
"And by the way, my little Horse," Lotus said gently, stroking Cho's hair (or what was left of it), "don't think you're the first child who ever tried to resist the advice of her mother. I could tell you tales about the fights I had with your Granny Li."  
  
"Please."  
  
"What's that, Cho?"  
  
"Please tell me about you and your mother. You've never told me before."  
  
So Lotus did. For two hours she recalled the mischief she had gotten into as a child, and the resulting arguments with her mother, holding Cho all the while. It was a Christmas utterly unlike any Cho had ever had.  
  
It was wonderful.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 20, wherein Cho returns to Hogwarts to find a new edict from Umbridge, a new problem with Marietta, and a new hope with Harry... 


	20. Going Back

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SIXTH YEAR  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
20. Going Back  
  
Cho went to sleep on Christmas night in a better frame of mind than she'd had in months. It was six months since Cedric was killed, and a year and a day since the Yule Ball. But now it looked as if there was some hope that Harry loved her as much as she loved him. She didn't know, of course, but how could anyone know anything like this? She wasn't certain about Cedric until that kiss, after the Second Task, and even then...  
  
Can anyone ever be certain about these things? I thought I was certain; no, I knew I was, and I knew he was, and it wasn't the two of us that changed things, it was the world...  
  
The Weird Sisters started playing the song they'd written for the Yule Ball, "I'll Be a Champion For You". Cho, who had never danced a step in her life, and had just admitted it at the last possible second to Cedric, looked up into his smiling gray eyes. He started to speak...  
  
"HEM HEM!"  
  
The music stopped. Kirley McCormack, lead singer of the Weird Sisters, was no longer onstage, Instead there, with a guitar hanging around her neck, was the short squat form of Dolores Umbridge.  
  
"Yule Ball Decree Number One Hundred Seventy Nine!" she announced. "Seekers must not dance with Seekers!"  
  
As if he were under a Summoning Spell, Cedric immediately moved backwards away from Cho, until he was lost in the crowd. The music started up, and everyone was dancing--except Cho. She saw people she knew, only they weren't dancing with anyone she remembered. The foreign Champions, Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum, were dancing with each other; Roger Davies was dancing with Arabella Smoot, whose reputation around Hogwarts was, to put it mildly, tarnished. She thought she saw Harry dancing, but not with Parvati Patel; he was dancing, and quite expertly, with Hermione Granger, who seemed to be enjoying herself immensely.  
  
Cho had to turn away from that sight, and that's when she saw him. Not among the dancers, but among the ghosts, near the ceiling. There floated Cedric Diggory, slowly rising toward the ceiling, then passing through it, all the while reaching back toward Cho, beckoning for her to follow--  
  
"CEDRIC!"  
  
Cho sat up in bed, wide awake now, and immediately covered her mouth with her hands. She wasn't sure if she'd shouted out in her sleep, and listened to see if her mother would come to her again, as she had all last summer. After a few minutes, though, she didn't hear anyone stirring. She settled back down, and tried to get back to sleep. She had to turn her pillow over, because the one side was wet from her tears.  
  
xxx  
  
The next morning, as soon as she got up, she tried to Floo Penelope Clearwater, but there was no answer. Madam Edgecombe, Marietta's mother, came on to tell Cho, "Apparently they're out of the country on holiday. Some of us don't get that luxury."  
  
"Yes, ma'am," Cho said. "We have to open the shop in a little while, too." So stop complaining, you sour old thing; a lot of us still have to work on Boxing Day, you know. "Did they leave an address where they can be reached? It's rather important."  
  
"Sorry, but Penelope is Muggle-born, you know, so the odds are that she's nowhere near a working Floo."  
  
"I see. Thanks anyway, and happy holidays."  
  
Madam Edgecombe muttered something and broke the connection.  
  
xxx  
  
It was lightly snowing around noon when Lotus Chang told Cho they were closing for the day. This was a first; business had been slow but there had been customers. Cho knew that her parents didn't like to lose a minute of potential business.  
  
"There are just some things we need to talk about. We haven't spoken much, have we?" Lotus tried to smile, but Cho suspected that there was something behind it.  
  
They put on their cloaks and walked down to the Leaky Cauldron, found a table for two looking out on Diagon Alley, and ordered two bowls of lamb stew. No sooner had Tom, the owner, taken their order and walked away when Lotus turned to Cho.  
  
"I heard you last night."  
  
Cho didn't say anything; what was there to say?  
  
"How are you handling this at school?"  
  
"Just fine, mother." Cho could tell from her mother's expression that this answer wouldn't do. "My Prefect helps me out sometimes, but there really are fewer and fewer nightmares now. I'm doing all right."  
  
"How many nightmares?"  
  
Cho could feel her cheeks burning. "Maybe once a week now."  
  
"And when you're awake?"  
  
"Honestly, mother, I feel much better."  
  
Lotus didn't seem to believe it. "Tell me about this Prefect."  
  
"You've heard me talk about Marietta; Marietta Edgecombe. Her mother works for the Ministry in the Floo Network."  
  
"That's good. It's always good to have someone with a connection to power, no matter what you may think of it." Lotus looked suspiciously at Cho, remembering the outburst in front of the Diggorys.  
  
"Well, leaving the Ministry out of it, right now she's the best friend I have."  
  
They stopped talking as Tom brought their food and two mugs of mulled pumpkin cider. Cho paused with the mug below her nose, breathing in the cinnamon and other spices. She was just about to take a sip when:  
  
"Are you seeing anyone else now?"  
  
It took all of the concentration Cho had to set her mug down on the table rather than fling it across the room. She looked steadily at her bowl of stew as she answered, "No, mother, not really."  
  
"What kind of answer is that?"  
  
"Why are you asking?"  
  
"Your father and I didn't find out about Cedric until very late. You made it difficult for us to help you when you needed help. I don't want that to happen again."  
  
"You needn't worry; it won't."  
  
"Who is it, then?"  
  
Was this a bluff on her mother's part? Was she guessing? Or did she really know? "There is one boy I ... really like."  
  
Lotus's stern expression never changed. "And when were you planning to tell us about him?"  
  
"Mother! I ... That is, he ... it only just happened."  
  
"WHAT just happened?!"  
  
Cho thought she'd feel joyous talking about it, but her mother wasn't letting it turn out that way. "One kiss, that's all. And ... we held hands. Just before the break."  
  
"I take it he's white."  
  
"This again?? Mother, why does that make such a difference to you?"  
  
"Because I've seen what happens!" Cho was afraid Lotus's harsh whisper was still carrying across the dining room. "I've seen too many white men who pin all their little fantasies on an Asian girlfriend--she's pretty, she's obedient, she's clever. And I've seen them run right back to the arms of their white girlfriends the minute you make him the least bit cross."  
  
"Harry's not like that!"  
  
Cho actually stood up and pounded the table with her fist. Every head in the dining room turned toward them.  
  
Lotus was seething, but wouldn't have publicly shown it for a million Galleons. She simply said, "Finish your stew."   
  
So they did, paid when they were finished, and went back to the shoppe. As long as there were customers, they maintained a frosty silence. Once they shut up for the night, however, things were back to the way they were before Christmas: Lotus and Cho screaming at each other in Chinese. And so it went until January 12, when the Hogwarts Express was scheduled to head back north.  
  
One thing happened during the break, and Lotus attached no importance to it at all. Cho had brought a suitcase from Hogwarts, and had set it up open on a chair next to the wardrobe in her room. After the evening with the Diggorys, Cho had thrown her dress robes on the floor of the wardrobe and left it there. It stayed there until the morning of the 29th, when Lotus, who was probably combining a little cleaning with a little snooping, found the dress robes. She shook her head at the mistreatment of such an expensive set of robes, hung them up in Cho's wardrobe, and only then went through the pockets. She discovered the letter in the yellow envelope, tossed it into Cho's suitcase, and didn't give it a second thought.  
  
xxx  
  
Early on the morning of Sunday, January 12, Cho opened her bedroom window, took Quan Yin out of her cage and set her on the window-sill. "Go on," she nudged the owl, "you can fly, after all." But Quan Yin wouldn't budge.  
  
She must be expecting me to give her a message, Cho thought. And here I thought she was like me: looking for any excuse to fly. Seems she's too well trained now: won't fly without a reason.  
  
There were still several hours before the Hogwarts Express left the station, so she dashed off a quick scroll to Madam Hooch, telling her about Gridpipe and the autographed Snitch. Once Quan Yin had a scroll tied to her leg and heard a name, she spread her wings and took off into the winter sky.  
  
xxx  
  
Cho spent the first hour of the trip back to Hogwarts roaming the corridors, looking in every compartment. She had an increasingly sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she realized: Harry wasn't on the train, nor were any of his friends. Perhaps Mr. Weasley took a turn for the worse; perhaps they just missed the train. But when would Harry return to Hogwarts ... and how?  
  
She was in the corridor worrying about Harry, and vaguely surprised as to how much she was worrying, when Roger Davies strolled up to her. "Have a good holiday?"  
  
She wasn't about to tell him everything, but she couldn't hold back completely. "I got a Snitch autographed by Eunice Murray!"  
  
Roger whistled. "What rich uncle did that?"  
  
Cho told him about Gridpipe in Quality Quidditch Supplies, their chat last summer, and his coming to the last game.   
  
"I never knew he played for the Wasps. Shows you how thick I am."  
  
"That doesn't make you thick. I didn't know myself."  
  
"Yeah, but you took the time to chat with him; I never would." He paused, a bit awkwardly. "Cho?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"There's a Hogsmeade date coming up next month. Do you have any plans? For Hogsmeade, I mean."  
  
"Nothing yet."  
  
"Well, seeing as how this may be my last chance, I wanted to ask you if, well, if you know Madam Puddifoot's..."  
  
"Roger," Cho interrupted, with a sad smile, "I know all about that place. Ced … Cedric took me there last year." If Roger expected her to burst into tears again, she disappointed him, hanging on to her emotions. He needed to hear this, and she needed to say it. "Did you know that, the day you asked me to the Yule Ball, Cedric had asked only about two hours earlier? I wasn't hoping to go with him, but he asked first, and somehow I just didn't have it in me to tell him no. I was hoping for someone else to ask, and he finally did, but by then it was too late."   
  
She turned and looked at the frozen landscape rushing by. "If only I'd followed my first instincts and said 'no' to Cedric; how different things would have been," Cho said, almost to herself, as she stared out the window. After a minute she turned back to Roger. "I won't do it again; I won't just say 'yes' to the first one to come along. There's someone in my mind, and in my heart, with whom I mean to go to Hogsmeade. He hasn't asked yet, but this time I will wait until he does. I'm sorry, Roger, but I can't go with you."  
  
Roger simply looked at Cho for a minute, his face an absolute blank. Then he just sort of shrugged his shoulders. "Fair enough. See you at practice." And, without waiting for a reply, he was off down the corridor.  
  
Cho was left wondering if she hadn't made a huge mistake, but she turned it over and over in her mind for the rest of the trip. She couldn't have done or said anything differently.  
  
She had checked almost every compartment and was about to go back and check them all again when she saw Raina al-Qaba leaving the last compartment; if she saw Cho, she gave no sign, but turned to go toward the lavatory. Cho looked inside the compartment; there sat Marietta Edgecombe.  
  
"Happy New Year, Marietta," Cho said as she entered the compartment and sat opposite Marietta, happy to see a friendly face.  
  
"Don't be too sure about that."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"A few days ago, mum was getting some robes ready for cleaning, and she tumbled on the Galleon. She put it in her own purse, and when I realized it was missing, I had to go ask her for it back. And she said, what's the difference between one Galleon and the next? So I had to think fast and make up some tripe about it was a good-luck charm from my O.W.L.s, and I always needed it by me. Cho, this is it. I have to stop attending those meetings."  
  
"You mustn't!"  
  
"Why not? It's not as if we're the only Ravenclaws in the group."  
  
"Who, then? Who should I have as a partner? Padma always teams up with Parvati, Michael Corner is with the Weasley girl, and Luna is, well, Luna. Half the time it's as if she's in a totally different room."  
  
"I'm sure you wouldn't mind another one-on-one session with Potter."  
  
Cho felt the blush begin before Marietta even finished her sentence. "Well, we can't do that during the lessons."  
  
"I knew it; you two did something after the last meeting. Cho, I'm saying this as a friend, but being with Harry is the worst thing you could do right now."  
  
"What would you know about it? Harry's very talented in defensive spells--you have to admit that--and he's, well, rather sweet."  
  
"And what does THAT mean?"  
  
"It means he doesn't try to just take over everything. I've seen the way some boys are at Hogwarts when they get a girlfriend. The girl just stops thinking for herself, and the boys encourage it. It's as if suddenly she's property, and has his name tattooed on her bum." Marietta smiled in spite of herself. "Harry isn't like that at all."  
  
"I don't care if he's Merlin, Paracelsus, and Cornelius Fudge rolled up into one wizard. Right now, the Ministry doesn't like him, the Prophet doesn't like him, and Umbridge definitely doesn't like him."  
  
"Are you saying that they're coming after him?"  
  
"Umbridge already has, and you've seen what that got him: off Quidditch for life."  
  
"And you seriously think they'd come after me if ..."  
  
"Do you really want to take that chance? Think of your parents."  
  
"I have thought of them, all my life. I'm turning seventeen in a couple of weeks; it's about time I thought of myself, and Harry."  
  
"So you're not going to give this up?" Cho shook her head. "Well, the whole thing is still as dicey as a red Sickle, but I can stay with it a bit longer, if only to keep an eye on you."  
  
"Don't worry; I'll be fine, I know it."  
  
Just then Raina appeared at the compartment door, and talk of Dumbledore's Army was forgotten for the rest of the trip.  
  
xxx  
  
Monday morning, Cho overslept, missed breakfast, and barely made it to Astronomy on time. Then there was the usual Monday morning dash from Astronomy to the greenhouses. As she passed through the courtyard, she looked around for Harry, but didn't see him.  
  
In fact, she didn't see him until after lunch. She was leaving the Great Hall to pick up her afternoon books when she saw Harry at the foot of the stairs, standing with his usual friends and talking with Zacharias Smith. Cho waited until Smith left; he wasn't exactly the most pleasant person in Dumbledore's Army, and even Harry looked a bit sour after dealing with him. She then walked over to them, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves and saying, "Hi, Harry."  
  
He spun about, and appeared to be surprised, as if she was the one who wasn't on the train but had mysteriously appeared in time for classes. "Oh; hi."  
  
Granger dragged Weasley off, as if she knew to give them some privacy; Cho was grateful for that. "Had a good Christmas?" she asked Harry.  
  
As soon as Cho asked, she remembered Arthur Weasley and the serpent and felt bad about it, but Harry just shrugged and said, "Yeah, not bad."  
  
He didn't say anything else. "Mine was ... pretty quiet," Cho said. Of course it wasn't, between the screaming matches with her mother and the news of a possible tryout with Tutshill this summer, but she wasn't about to tell Harry all that in passing, in a rush in the corridor. It deserved a separate time and place. Perhaps in Hogsmeade...  
  
Cho waited for Harry to say something else, but he didn't. Perhaps he wasn't mentioning it because he didn't know. "Erm, there's another Hogsmeade trip next month. Did you see the notice?"  
  
"What?" It was as if she'd woken Harry up. "Oh, no; I haven't checked the notice board since we got back."  
  
"Yes," Cho nodded, starting to blush again and not caring a bit. "It's on Valentine's Day."  
  
She expected Harry to colour a bit himself, but he seemed just to be juggling a schedule in his head. "Right. Well, I suppose you want to--"  
  
Cho couldn't help interrupting happily: "Only if you do!" Of course, she was very sure that Harry wanted to go to Hogsmeade with her, no matter what day it was.  
  
Except that wasn't what Harry seemed to want. All of a sudden, he looked stunned, as if Snape had just asked him the ingredients of a particularly complex potion. "I," he stammered, "er..."  
  
Oh, no, Cho thought, I'm too late. He's already going with someone else and he doesn't want to tell me. "Oh, it's okay if you don't," she said quickly, feeling thoroughly embarrassed. "Don't worry." She had to get out of this conversation. "I ... I'll see you around." She started walking up the stairs. She wanted to run; she wanted to throw herself into the frozen lake, or off the Astronomy Tower. She had thought about this meeting since Roger had told her about the visit, and it had gone so horribly wrong--  
  
"Cho! Hey, Cho!"  
  
She stopped halfway up the stairs, listening to Harry's voice and fast footsteps. Was it a second chance? Please let it be a second chance...  
  
Harry stopped beside her on the step, his cheeks a bit pink from the running--or was it from nervousness?  
  
"Erm, do you want to come into Hogsmeade with me? On Valentine's Day?" He asked as if he couldn't believe that she'd say yes! That was so--so sweet!  
  
"Oh, yes!" Cho couldn't help it; she was blushing brightly now, and grinning like a fool, and happier than she'd been since the night they kissed.  
  
Her happiness must have infected Harry, since he was grinning now, too. "Right," he said, "well, that's settled then." He turned and, with a last wave to Cho, he bounced toward the library. There was no other word for it; making the date with Cho had definitely put a spring in his step.  
  
Cho, meanwhile, also felt lightweight as she dashed back to Ravenclaw. She collected her books for Ancient Runes and Magical Creatures, but she might as well have left them in her dorm: all she did in class was replay in her mind Harry's invitation to Hogsmeade, and her reply.  
  
xxx  
  
Tuesday, however, brought more ominous news on the front page of the Daily Prophet. There were the faces of nine wizards and one witch--all of them Death Eaters--who had done the seemingly impossible by escaping from Azkaban prison. For many students, morning classes--Cho's were Advanced Muggle Studies and Arithmancy--were pretty much a wash, as students quizzed their professors about the breakout, and the Sixth Year Ravenclaws were among those with questions.  
  
"You ask me about Azkaban as if I've been there," sputtered an exasperated Professor Idylwyld. "Can we please get back to talking about videotape?"  
  
"Yes, I remember Sirius Black," sighed Professor Vector, "He would be about as old as your parents are now. But I recall him being like most of you wizards here. He had his, shall I say, rambunctious side, but certainly nothing criminal back then, and absolutely nothing linking him to He Who Must Not Be Named."  
  
"But it's over two years since Black escaped," Vincent Krixlow pointed out.  
  
"And there hasn't been sight, sound or rumour of him since the escape. The probability is that he fled to the Continent, or perhaps America. And, having fled Ministry jurisdiction, it is statistically incalculable that he would then jeopardize himself to return to Azkaban to free other prisoners. We were on page two hundred seventy-three."  
  
As they descended to the Great Hall for lunch after class, Cho fell back and walked beside Marietta. "I hope this doesn't reflect on your mum."  
  
"What's my mum got to do with anything? She's Floo Network!"  
  
"But a breakout this large from Azkaban? There's never been anything like it! The Ministry can't look too capable now."  
  
"Fudge has already put out an explanation."  
  
"But you heard Vector just now. It's not possible that Sirius Black could have done it."  
  
"No, but it's possible to claim that he's responsible, and maybe that's all the Ministry needs."  
  
"To do what?" Cho asked, astounded.  
  
"To find out what really happened."  
  
"If they're even interested."  
  
"Let's not have that 'You-Know-Who-Is-Alive' lark again."  
  
"Fine. Believe what you like."  
  
"You just believe it because Potter said it."  
  
"I believe it because I saw him bring Cedric back!"  
  
They were in the middle of a pack of classmates, with Professor Vector bringing up the rear. Cho wanted to stop, but the crowd pushed her and Marietta into the Great Hall. Marietta pulled her aside.  
  
"Cho, I ... You're right. I'm sorry. But you have to admit, Harry hasn't really told anyone what happened, has he? And he's had loads of opportunities."  
  
"I know," Cho sighed. She'd asked herself the same question countless times since the Third Task. "But he says he doesn't like to talk about it."  
  
"He'd better learn to like it, if he wants people to believe him. Let's get some lunch."  
  
xxx  
  
Wednesday morning found Cho writing a scroll to her mother. She'd had another nightmare; this one about the upcoming match against Slytherin. Except that Slytherin didn't field a team of students, but the nine escaped warlocks from Azkaban. Roger Davies tried to protest, but the referee turned out to be not Madam Hooch, but the escaped Death Eater witch Bellatrix Lestrange. She killed Davies, then the others started killing the other players and spectators. Cho dodged their spells as best she could, but one of them fired off a curse at her that seemed to come in slow motion. However, she couldn't avoid it, she couldn't counter it, she couldn't even think--  
  
--but she screamed, and that woke her up.  
  
The night was almost gone, so she started writing home, talking about the escape from Azkaban and how the school was reacting to it.  
  
When the other girls started stirring, she stopped writing and got dressed for breakfast. Escaped Death Eaters and an invitation from Harry, she thought; will today be eventful as well?  
  
It was, which Cho found out as soon as she got to the Common Room. A number of students were gathered around the notice board.  
  
"Something happened?" she asked Pablo Molina.  
  
"Yeh, old Umbitch is at it again."  
  
"She's lost what's left of her mind," Roger Davies said. "Look at this."  
  
Cho edged closer to read Educational Decree Number Twenty-Six:  
  
"Teachers are hereby banned from giving students any information that is not strictly related to the subjects they are paid to teach."  
  
"Makes no bleedin' sense at all," Jan Nugginbridge muttered over Cho's shoulder.  
  
"Too right," Vincent Krixlow replied. "She can't patrol all of the classrooms at once, can she?"  
  
Maybe she doesn't need to patrol them all, Cho thought. Maybe this is aimed at a few teachers she wishes to silence. In any case, breakfast can wait.  
  
She went back up to her dorm to send news of this latest bit of Umbridge's lunacy to her mother.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 21, wherein Cho goes out on what she had hoped would be a brilliant date ... 


	21. Just the Two of Us

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SIXTH YEAR  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
21. Just the Two of Us  
  
"I'll see you around, Harry."  
  
Since she started talking to Harry Potter, that had become the phrase Cho always used to end their conversations. And she had planned to say it to Harry in the castle, or perhaps on the steps up to the front door, after a day in Hogsmeade, happy, relaxed, getting to know each other better. Perhaps she would say it after a kiss, soft and lingering, like the one they shared before Christmas...  
  
But this wasn't like that; not at all. Cho was crying, but not just from sorrow: she felt sad, and angry, and embarrassed, and utterly confused. She turned and ran out of Madam Puddifoot's.  
  
She ran into a violent rainstorm. Wind whipped down from the hills, driving the rain until it stung her face. She didn't care that, at times, she couldn't see six feet in front of her; she ran all the way back to Hogwarts, slipping on the unpaved road and falling in the mud several times. She didn't care.  
  
How? How had it happened? This day was supposed to be perfect; how had it all gone so wrong?  
  
xxx  
  
Things in Hogwarts were relatively quiet once the holidays ended. The first Quidditch match of the year wouldn't be until 21 February; Gryffindor was playing Hufflepuff, and the outcome of that one was as predictable as when Ravenclaw played Hufflepuff earlier. Or perhaps not; now both teams were fielding inexperienced Seekers. Davies talked about the altered Gryffindor team, but Cho just didn't seem to hear. She spent a lot of time thinking about something else.  
  
It wasn't Quidditch, and it wasn't Umbridge's latest Edict, which didn't make any sense until she heard the rumour that Professor Hagrid was under probation. According to Padma Patil, so was Professor Trelawney, but Cho gave her no thought at all. She felt nothing but contempt for Divination, for those who studied it and those who taught it, since it had failed to alert anyone that Cedric Diggory would die in the Third Task.  
  
It wasn't even Dumbledore's Army, which usually met on Tuesdays now, that preoccupied her. "I asked Potter about changing the date," Zacharias Smith was saying one time, just as a meeting of the study group was breaking up. "He said something about Remedial Potions with Snape. Hard to imagine anyone that bad off."  
  
"Well, Snape would rattle anyone," Parvati Patil replied. "Plus it's our O.W.L.s year; can't blame Harry for wanting to get good marks in a dodgy subject."  
  
Cho, overhearing the conversation, simply nodded. She remembered how Snape had singled her out in her First Year, and how she'd tried to avoid him after that. She remembered the pressures of the O.W.L.s, and how--even though it wasn't necessary--Cedric had offered to coach her in some subjects. He wasn't much of a help, but the offer was sweet--  
  
"Er, Cho."  
  
Harry. She turned to face him, and realized that her eyes were beginning to tear up yet again.  
  
"Are you, er, I mean, how are you?"  
  
She quickly wiped her eyes, saying, "I'm fine, Harry." Then her face lit up with the kind of smile she seldom had since Cedric's death. "We're still on for Saturday, right?"  
  
"What, Hogsmeade? Yeh, looking forward to it." Harry, however, didn't seem to be looking forward to it; if anything he seemed rather nervous.  
  
Cho had to have seen it, but she gave no notice. "I'll meet you in the entrance hall, after breakfast."  
  
"Sounds good."  
  
Before Cho could say or do anything else, Marietta was at her side, clearing her throat rather loudly. Cho grabbed Marietta's arm and steered her toward the classroom door, saying over her shoulder, "I'll see you around, Harry!"  
  
As they descended the stairs to Ravenclaw House, Cho said, half in jest, "You could have given us thirty more seconds, you know."  
  
"Why? You'll have all day Saturday."  
  
True, Cho thought. Harry and I together, the whole day...  
  
Every day since the holidays ended, and sometimes twice a day, Cho had gotten lost in her thoughts of a Hogsmeade visit with Harry...  
  
xxx  
  
She ran back toward the castle, but turned away from the stone steps and kept on toward the Greenhouses. She ran straight toward the back wall: the secret doorway to a garden that Cedric had tended all his years at Hogwarts. It had been his refuge, his escape-valve from the anger he felt at his father, from the pressure he put on his son's life. It was also a secret place where he and Cho spent a wonderful spring-time, putting in plants, holding and kissing one another, and until now, she hadn't given in to the temptation to revisit the garden.  
  
She drew her wand and traced a circle on the wall, as she and Cedric had done so many times to open the door. Nothing. She tried again and again. The wall wouldn't open. Sprout must have given the garden to another student who needed it, or simply closed it off altogether.  
  
With this refuge and reminder literally closed to her, Cho simply gave up. She slid down the wall to the ground, where she knelt in the mud, one cheek pressed against the wet bricks, crying--but not for Cedric. Only once did she speak, when she turned her face, wet with tears and rain, to the clouded sky and shouted one word:  
  
"HARRY!"  
  
Nobody heard.  
  
xxx  
  
Cho was awake before sunrise on Saturday, 14 February. She'd gotten almost no sleep the night before and precious little sleep the night before that, so keyed up and anxious was she about her date with Harry Potter. It promised so much in itself, and promised even more for the future...  
  
She wasn't entirely sure what to wear; as many times as she imagined the date, she'd never given a thought to clothing. The skies were a bit gloomy, and promised bad weather later, but the last week or so had been warmer than usual: most of the snows of January had already melted away, and any storms today would bring rain rather than snow. In the end, just as it had before the Yule Ball, her inability to decide on fashion had left it to the last minute to choose. She put on a knit dress in Tutshill colors (two different shades of blue), horizontal stripes, with long sleeves but falling just below the knee. Then she pulled her hair back into a ponytail; it had grown out several inches since she'd had it cut over the summer, and again reached down onto her back. Fixing the ponytail in place with the lacquered comb she got when she was a First Year, she looked at herself, then looked again. She couldn't stop looking.  
  
She was so preoccupied with her reflection that she hadn't noticed Raina al-Qaba came into the room for the second of her five daily prayers. "You really look all right, you know," Raina offered.  
  
Cho continued to look at her reflection. "It ... it's not that."  
  
"Something wrong?"  
  
Cho finally turned away from the mirror and sat on the edge of her bed. "Oh, Raina, I'm -- afraid."  
  
"Of what?"  
  
"Everything!" Cho hadn't had anyone but Marietta to confide in all year; now that Raina was offering a sympathetic ear, Cho simply blurted out everything at once. "I'm worried about what to say, what to do, how I'll act, how long to stay, whether I'll go to pieces, whether he thinks I'll go to pieces--"  
  
"Stop, Cho!" Raina actually came over and put her hands on Cho's shoulders. This seemed to calm Cho somewhat. "All this because of a Hogsmeade trip with a boy?"  
  
When Raina put it that way, Cho suddenly felt foolish, but tried to defend herself. "Not just a trip, really," she said quietly, "it's Valentine's."  
  
"Well, try not to think about that," Raina smiled. "It's not as if I've had any experience in that line, but you'll just worry yourself into doing or saying the wrong thing if you keep thinking about it. Just let things happen as they happen."  
  
"The will of Allah?" Cho smiled ruefully.  
  
"I think you could do worse." Raina had laid her prayer-mat out on her bed; with a last smile at Cho, she drew the bed-curtains.  
  
I can't see how to leave anything up to anything, Cho thought as she descended the stairs to the main entrance. Can't trust to luck: Ravenclaws are supposed to be too smart to believe in luck. Can't trust to faith, or not hers, anyway; we were brought up with such different ideas of Heaven. I suppose the only thing to do is be a Seeker: watch for opportunities, and then take them.  
  
When she got to the entrance hall, she stood just to the side of the doors, choosing not to eat breakfast at all, watching the stairs that led down from Gryffindor's part of the castle. She didn't have to wait five minutes before Harry appeared, coming out of the Great Hall, wearing a bulky sweater and blue jeans.  
  
"Hi," Cho smiled at him.  
  
"Hi," Harry replied. Cho, who still felt a bit nervous, noticed that Harry was also a bit nervous. But he recovered and asked, "Well, erm, shall we go, then?"  
  
They didn't immediately go; they had to get in the queue to have their names checked off by Argus Filch. He squinted sharply at the list on his clipboard, marked off their names, then proceeded to sniff the air around Harry for a minute. Perhaps he was still searching for traces of the spurious Dungbombs he was seeking last September in the Owlery. Cho was tempted to say something to him about it but, before she could, he'd waved them out the door. They walked down the great stone steps, side by side, and set out toward Hogsmeade. In silence.  
  
The awkward silence made Cho nervous. She looked at Harry, but Harry was looking at the stadium, where Gryffindor was practicing for next Saturday's match against Hufflepuff. Now and then she could see a figure in red robes rise up above the edge of the stadium, then sink back out of sight.  
  
He wants to be there, Cho said to herself. He's been a Seeker since First Year, and now Umbridge has banned him for life. His heart must be broken...  
  
Cho didn't care that Harry wasn't paying attention to her; she knew how he must be feeling, and just wanted to let him know that she knew: "You really miss it, don't you?"  
  
Maybe he'd forgotten she was there after all, but he turned toward Cho. "Yeah," he sighed, "I do."  
  
Cho tried continuing the conversation: "Remember the first time we played against each other, in your Third Year?"  
  
As soon as she said that, Harry smiled. It worked, she thought. So she chatted on with him about Quidditch; about matches at Hogwarts, about Oliver Wood, the former Gryffindor Captain who'd found a spot as Keeper for Puddlemere United (she'd have to correct Roger Davies; he'd heard that it was Pride of Portee), about the World Quidditch Cup. Before Cho even realized it, they were out of the castle gates and on the path to Hogsmeade.  
  
They were still talking about the World Quidditch Cup as they walked past the lake toward the village. Yes, Cho thought with part of her mind while another part chatted about the campground and the Bulgarians; yes, Harry, smile. I want you to be happy, now and when you remember this day years from now. I'll do or say whatever it takes to make you happy, surely you know that...  
  
They were talking about the Wronski Feint, which Viktor Krum had used against the Irish, and Cho hinted that she'd been studying the Wronski to try to figure out a way to counter it. (She didn't tell Harry that she thought she'd found such a way; she could hear Roger Davies in her head, yelling that Harry was still an opposing Seeker, no matter what Umbridge says, and how dare Cho give their secrets away...)  
  
"POTTER AND CHANG?! URCHH!!"  
  
They both froze at that rude shriek and a chorus of giggles which greeted it. It was a Slytherin, of course: Pansy Parkinson, who had been Draco Malfoy's date for the Yule Ball, who went all to pieces over Draco when he'd been scratched by the hippogriff two years before. Why wasn't she hanging off of Draco's arm now, instead of with a gaggle of Slytherin Fifth Year girls?  
  
"Chang, I don't think much of your taste! At least Diggory was good-looking!"  
  
As the Slytherin girls laughed, and Harry blushed crimson, Cho had all she could do to keep her hand away from the pocket that held her wand. She wanted to hex Parkinson into the middle of next month--until she saw that, like Malfoy, she wore a Prefect's badge. If Cho tried anything, for any reason, Parkinson would complain about her to Snape, who would complain to Umbridge, who might rule her off Quidditch along with Harry. And she simply wasn't as brave as Harry was; she couldn't bear that. She simply stood, trembling, red-faced, close to tears, more ashamed of herself and her impotence than she'd ever been in her life.  
  
It barely registered with her that Harry had taken a step forward; she followed along beside him, but both of them were silent again. Cho still heard the Slytherin giggles in her ears, and she wondered if Harry took those swine seriously, if maybe he was regretting asking her to spend the Hogsmeade visit with him...  
  
xxx  
  
Cho was a Ravenclaw, and hence knew enough to come in out of the rain. Still, the time that she spent kneeling in the mud by the stone wall in the rain was enough; by dinner she was coughing and feverish. She went down to the hospital wing, although she was barely able to get herself there and nearly fainted once she was inside.  
  
"What in Merlin's name have you done to yourself?!" Madam Pomfrey shrieked. Cho felt too exhausted to even try to answer. "You're burning up with fever and as gray as a stone! Now I want you out of those clothes at once. Everything, Miss Chang, even the undergarments! You can be modest or you can be healthy. Honestly, I can't imagine what you were thinking, out in the rain. Still, on a Hogsmeade day, it's just a wonder there haven't been more like you. You're courting pneumonia, but I think we've got it in time. First we deal with the fever; take these two Ice Mice--don't look at them, girl, just swallow them down!"  
  
Cho did as she was told, and at once the fever and dizziness began to fade, leaving her exhausted and barely able to finish undressing. She fell rather than sat on the nearest bed.   
  
It was as if she was hearing a disembodied voice that had nothing to do with Madam Pomfrey. "What did you have for breakfast, Miss Chang?"  
  
"No breakfast," she heard herself say sleepily.  
  
"And did you get much rest last night?"  
  
"Not really; nor the night before."  
  
Cho felt as if she was sinking underwater. She barely heard Madam Pomfrey muttering to herself now: "...always takes the short, slight ones the hardest. At least it wasn't snowing; that would have just made it worse. Now just lie there, Miss Chang, and no matter how hot you may feel, do not take off the covers. Once the fever breaks, I'll be able to dose you with some Pepper-Up."  
  
xxx  
  
"So." Harry finally broke the silence that followed after the encounter with Pansy Parkinson. "Where do you want to go?"  
  
Cho shrugged, tried to appear as if the Slytherins weren't even worth thinking about. "Oh, I don't mind. Erm, shall we just have a look in the shops or ... something?"  
  
They walked the length of Hogsmeade's High Street, glancing at shops they'd seen a dozen times before: Honeyduke's Sweetshop, filled to overflowing with Third Years; Gladrags Wizardwear with its windows full of the new spring robes ("Let our Passion for Fashion put Zing in your Spring!"); and Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop at the junction of two paths. A right turn would take them to the Hog's Head, where Dumbledore's Army was born. They continued straight until they came to Dervish and Banges, whose window did not display any of their magical items. Instead, they had put up the poster of the ten Death Eaters who had managed to escape from Azkaban.  
  
They stood next to each other looking at the poster. They hadn't spoken to each other in several minutes, which Cho thought was not the way to conduct a date. As she looked at the poster, though, she was reminded of another poster--  
  
"It's funny, isn't it? Remember when that Sirius Black escaped and there were Dementors all over Hogsmeade looking for him?" She looked over her shoulder, half expecting to see even one Dementor. "Now ten Death Eaters are on the loose and there aren't any Dementors anywhere."  
  
At first she wasn't sure if Harry appreciated her remarks, but he too looked over his shoulder and said, "Yeah, it is weird."  
  
Inwardly, Cho smiled. I think this may be important, she thought, but all I need to do is call it to Harry's attention. He's head of the Army, he'll know what to do, work it into the lessons somehow...  
  
Clouds were gathering overhead, they started back to the station, but rain started falling when they came back to the junction. It would be good if they found shelter, but the Hog's Head was right out; only if there was no other choice would she go back to that barnyard-smelling place. But there was an alternative.  
  
"Erm, do you want to get a coffee?" Cho asked, hesitant to bring it up if Harry would rather just dash back to the castle.  
  
"Yeah, all right; where?"  
  
"Oh, there's a really nice place just up here." She tugged Harry's arm to follow her on the path leading away from ther Hog's Head and toward...  
  
"Haven't you ever been in Madam Puddifoot's?" Cho asked cheerily as she ushered Harry through the door of what could only be called "a quaint little tea shop".  
  
xxx  
  
When Cho woke up Sunday, it was already after breakfast; she had slept, deep and dreamless, for over ten hours. Still, all that she wanted to do was pull the covers over her head and go back to sleep.  
  
"Past time for breakfast, Miss Chang!"  
  
Madam Pomfrey's cheerful announcement was as welcome to Cho's ears as Pansy Parkinson. "I can't," she muttered.  
  
"You can and you must."  
  
"But, but my stomach. I feel as if I have to ..."  
  
"Merlin's beard, do you think I'd feed you rashers and eggs?"  
  
The mention of breakfast, even the thought of it, was all it took. Cho gagged, looked about frantically, saw a cauldron next to her bed and vomited into it, hoping that Pomfrey had put it there for that purpose.  
  
"Ah, still bad off, I see," Pomfrey said as she wiped Cho's face with a damp cloth. "Well, this will settle your stomach, and give you some of your strength back."  
  
Cho was wary of the spoonful of reddish liquid, but it smelled of jasmine flowers. As she swallowed it, she realized that it had no taste and hardly any substance; it seemed more like a meringue than a potion.  
  
As Cho sat up in bed, the covers fell away and she realized that she was still nude. Before she could ask it, though, Madam Pomfrey was handing her a night-gown.  
  
"Just wanted to be sure your fever was over. No substitute for sweating, sometimes."  
  
"Yes, ma'am. Have ... have there been any visitors?"  
  
"No, because I've kept them out. You may be well enough to receive this afternoon, but I'll be the judge of that."  
  
"Who were they?"  
  
"Professor Flitwick; I notified him of your condition, of course. Your Prefect friend, Miss Edgecombe, has been asking after you."  
  
"Erm, anyone else?"  
  
"No. Is there someone you want to contact?"  
  
"No," Cho sighed. "Thanks anyway."  
  
"Try and get some more sleep, dear; I'll be back with some more elixir in a few hours."  
  
Cho looked down the long row of empty beds. He didn't ask after her; he didn't care to ask. He didn't care at all.  
  
No, he cared. He must have cared! What was that all about just before Christmas, then?  
  
Maybe it was about nothing. Could we have misunderstood each other so completely?  
  
No, Cho decided. I didn't talk myself into this. There's something to my feelings for Harry. They're real. And we were getting along so well at first ...  
  
xxx  
  
"Cute, isn't it?"  
  
Cho's question was first answered by Harry's silence; then, when he realized he was expected to say something, half-heartedly agreed with Cho.  
  
"Look, she's decorated it for Valentine's Day!"  
  
Actually, and Cho probably would have remembered if she was with anyone but Harry, Madam Puddifoot's looked as if Gilderoy Lockhart had decorated it for Valentine's Day. Small wrought-iron tables were scattered around the room, with two wrought iron chairs and just enough table space for a pot of tea and two cups. Tiny golden cherubs circled the room, moving from table to table, tossing heart-shaped confetti at the customers. One cherub tossed some at Cho, who shrieked with delight.  
  
Harry, on the other hand, looked anything but delighted.  
  
There was only one table open, next to the main window overlooking the lane; they made for it and sat down. Cho noticed that Harry didn't pull a chair out for her, as Cedric always did on the few times they went to Hogsmeade. No need to stand on ceremony, she decided.  
  
Then she saw Harry looking past her with what could only be called dread. She turned and, for the first time, saw who was sitting less than two feet away: Roger Davies. At the same table was another Seventh Year Ravenclaw, Annabella Smoot, a girl who seemed to revel in her own hunger for boys. She's never been seen with Roger before, but she was with him now. They were holding hands, staring at each other, grinning vacantly--as were, Cho realized, almost every other couple in the place. It was like living in a village full of veela. She and Harry were the only exceptions.  
  
Fortunately, Madam Puttifoot managed to squeeze her bulk between Cho's table and Roger's. "What can I get for you, my dears?"  
  
Harry looked for a menu, but there was none. There were only a few things on the bill of fare, and you just had to ask. "Two coffees, please," Cho said.  
  
The moment Madam Puttifoot walked away, Cho remembered her first--her only other--time here, with Cedric. He had ordered for her, and she had chided him for it--gently, of course, but firmly, and now she'd been just as rude to Harry as Cedric was to her. She hated herself for it, then tried to rationalize it away; after all, Harry looked like he felt out of place; somebody had to take control. But that even sounded like an awful excuse. Before she could decide what to do, the coffee arrived--and Roger and Annabella had moved beyond hand-holding.  
  
She remembered kissing Cedric, and was quite sure it hadn't looked like that--all gaping mouths and pulsing tongues and breathing hard and fast through the nose. It looked naked, somehow; obscene. Cho couldn't think of anything to say to Harry, who, for his part, looked up at the ceiling, only to be pelted with more confetti.  
  
Cho tried to change the subject. "What's the latest you've heard on Umbridge?"  
  
"That cow's doing something new, then?"  
  
"She's put Professor Hagrid on probation since term started."  
  
"Oh. Yeah, I knew that."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Damn shame, too; he's a really great teacher."  
  
"You think so?"  
  
"Well, he knows so much about Magical Creatures. Of course, they get out of hand sometimes."  
  
"I suppose so."  
  
"She's after Madam Trelawney, too."  
  
"Well, I don't have much respect for her; seems a right phony sometimes."  
  
"Yeah, I guess so. Sometimes."  
  
The silence at their table was almost as deafening as the sounds of Roger and Annabella snogging less than a yard away. Say something, Harry, Cho thought; say anything.  
  
He said exactly the wrong thing:  
  
"Er, listen, do you want to come with me to the Three Broomsticks at lunchtime? I'm meeting Hermione Granger there."  
  
I didn't just hear that. "You're meeting Hermione Granger? Today??"  
  
"Yeah, well, she asked me to, so I thought I would."   
  
So that's all I am to you, Harry, an afterthought?  
  
And Harry simply made matters worse: "Do you want to come with me? She said it wouldn't matter if you did."  
  
"Oh. Well, that was NICE of her." You ask me to Hogsmeade, and she says I don't matter and you agree with her?!  
  
Cho stared at nothing, really, as she tried to sort this out. He's a wonderful person and a great Defense teacher and the best Seeker in Hogwarts now and possibly ever! Can he be so absolutely THICK that he doesn't realize what he's saying? What he's doing? She glanced at Roger and Annabella, and realized that she'd have to lay it out for Harry, step by step if need be.  
  
"He asked me out, you know, a couple of weeks ago. Roger. I turned him down, though." Don't you understand, Harry? You're not an afterthought to me. I had a chance at him but I preferred to be with you! Can't you see that?  
  
But Harry didn't seem to see anything but his coffee-cup; he appeared to be reading the dregs--or at least the confetti the cherub kept tossing at them.  
  
From the moment Harry mentioned Hermione's name, something new began building inside Cho. It was a version of herself, yet it was a very different Cho: not merely jealous but spitefully so, prepared to say or do anything, no matter how hurtful, if she felt threatened. And she felt threatened now.  
  
And Cho felt threatened by this spiteful alien within her. She tried to shove it aside, but Madam Puddifoot's wasn't offering much by way of distraction: there was Harry, who looked utterly confused, and then there were Roger and Annabella, who looked as if they were about to tear each other's robes off and perform some kind of act impossible to do on the shop's tiny tables...  
  
Back to Harry, then, who looked at Cho as if she really were some sort of alien being. Why had she brought him here? What did she know of such places?  
  
Every fancy, every daydream she had entertained about Harry since, well, two years ago, maybe longer, was fading away. Very well, she decided; this may be the last chance I ever get to ask him directly, and a Seeker takes her chances when they occur:  
  
"I came in here with ... Cedric last year."  
  
At least one thing went as expected. She knew her mention of Cedric would hit Harry like a body-blow. Not that the unfeeling little git didn't deserve it, muttered the spiteful alien within her. But it hit her, too, being reminded of happier times, with someone who understood her, understood the world, understood so many things she had never known before... She started to lose her composure, as she knew she would, and she no longer cared, in her rush to finally, finally ask Harry the one question she never had answered: had Cedric, in the final hours before his death, forgiven Cho for their argument--the last time they had spoken?  
  
"I've been meaning to ask you for ages." Her voice started cracking, her eyes started tearing up again. Cho no longer cared. This was her last and only chance. "Did Cedric ... did he ..." She started breaking down, but not before saying the words out loud for the first, possibly last, time: "mention me at all before he died?"  
  
She could see the pain of the memory on Harry's face; well, let it hurt him! Maybe he'll realize that I've been hurt, too!  
  
Harry, looking more tormented than Cho had seen since she saw him having the nightmare about his mother being killed, could hardly bring himself to look at Cho. "Well, no. There ... there wasn't time for him to say anything."  
  
No. One word, and this last living link to Cedric's final hours was gone.   
  
"Erm..."  
  
No, wait; he had more to say...  
  
"So, do you ... do you get to see a lot of Quidditch in the holidays? You support the Tornadoes, right?"  
  
This was one of Cho's nightmares come to life. He wanted to talk about Quidditch?! Damn Quidditch--this was about a human being! A friend of theirs!  
  
"Look," Harry leaned closer, practically murmuring in her ear, "let's not talk about Cedric right now. Let's talk about something else."  
  
At this point, Cho lost control of everything. She forgot everything she'd talked about with the Muggle grief counselor, with Penelope Clearwater, with Marietta. She forgot every lesson her parents had tried to teach her about growing up Chinese in an Anglo country--especially the part about not showing your emotions. Cho was filled with nothing but emotions now, and those emotions poured out of her mouth as tears started to pour out of her eyes.  
  
"I thought-- I thought you'd understand: I NEED to talk about it! Surely, you need to talk about it, too! I mean, you saw it happen, didn't you?"  
  
Harry looked at her as if she were a basilisk, then tried to get her to calm down. "Well, I have talked about it, to Ron and Hermione and--"  
  
At the mention of Hermione's name--a Gryffindor girl, Cho seemed to hear her mother say, and a WHITE girl--the spiteful new demon in Cho took control. "Oh! You'll talk to Hermione Granger, but you won't talk to me! Perhaps it would be best if we just-- just paid and you went and met up with Hermione Granger, like you obviously want to!"  
  
Cho took a napkin, holding it to her eyes, sobbing into it, trying to wipe the tears from her face, apparently unaware that she had shouted loud enough at Harry--in a crowded coffee shop, no less--to briefly drown out the rain hammering on the windows.  
  
Harry, for his part, gaped like a stunned troll, and could only manage the word, "Cho?"  
  
Perhaps she'd forgotten he was still there until he spoke; this only provoked Cho to attack him yet again. "Go on! Leave! I don't know why you asked me out in the first place if you're going to make arrangements to meet other girls right after me!" She couldn't help what came next: the spiteful demon urged her to twist the knife she'd already plunged into Harry. "How many are you meeting AFTER Hermione?!"  
  
Harry rallied to his own defense: "It's not like that!" And gave a nervous chuckle.  
  
Cho was on her feet at once. He thinks this is funny ... He thinks this is FUNNY!!!  
  
"I'll ... see you around, Harry!"  
  
xxx  
  
Just as the sun was setting, there was a knock at the door to the hospital wing. Cho had awakened a few minutes before, feeling better, so Madam Pomfrey opened the door.  
  
Marietta.  
  
She walked over to the neighboring bed and sat down on it as if they were back in the Ravenclaw Common Room. She didn't say anything at first, but looked quietly at Cho.  
  
Cho felt her cheeks start to burn. "Tell me the worst of it, then. I'm sure everyone thinks I'm the most foolish witch in Hogwarts."  
  
"Well, I don't know about everyone, but a couple of Fourth Years were having a laugh at your expense last night. Roger put a stop to that."  
  
"Roger?"  
  
"Just an oblique threat; nothing that a Prefect or Flitwick could take points for, but he made it plain that you're not to be teased about yesterday."  
  
"I wish yesterday had never happened."  
  
"It's a shame, since you wanted it so badly. Exactly what happened?"  
  
"I ... don't want to talk about it. Not just yet."  
  
"Ah. Well, are you caught up on your assignments?"  
  
"Of course; got caught up Friday night. Typical Ravenclaw," Cho smiled sadly.  
  
Marietta smiled, too. "Pomfrey says you're here for another night. Can I get you anything?"  
  
"No, just--sit with me for a while."  
  
Marietta sat by Cho's bed for another thirty minutes, before she had to go attend a Prefects' Meeting. They didn't speak for most of that time, but Cho felt that, somehow, they communicated more than the stretches of silence had with Harry...  
  
Harry, who hadn't inquired about her; Harry, who was probably somewhere with Hermione Granger.  
  
As soon as Marietta left, Cho reseolved never to speak to Harry Potter again.  
  
Within ten minutes, she was crying into her pillow. She had tried to cast him out of her heart, but the pain was too great.  
  
xxx  
  
That night, Cho Chang dreamed of a completely deserted Hogsmeade. All of the shops were open but unattended. Nobody was there. Fires burned in the hearths, but otherwise there were no signs of life.  
  
The absence of people, the silence--it was more frightening than any monster could have been. Having come to the end of town and found nobody there, she ran back.  
  
There! She saw two people on the platform: Harry and Hermione Granger. They were just standing there, casually chatting, as if the town hadn't suddenly lost everyone. They seemed to be waiting for the train to take them back to London.  
  
Harry looked at Cho, with no emotion on his face at all. Hermione opened her mouth to speak:  
  
"HEM HEM!"  
  
Cho's eyes flew open and her body froze beneath the covers. That voice wasn't a dream!  
  
The sun had gone down; it was night-time, but Cho didn't know what time it was. Still, why was Umbridge at the door to the hospital wing, talking with Madam Pomfrey?  
  
"Such a big school, so many things needing my attention," said Madam Umbridge in that mincing voice of hers, talking through the door that Madam Pomfrey had opened just a crack.   
  
"That's as may be, Madam Inquisitor," Pomfrey answered back coolly. "However, I have a sick student here and your visit is a distraction. It might even make things worse. Please understand that she needs MY attention."  
  
"Ah. Case proving a bit too difficult for you, eh?"  
  
"Madam Inquisitor," Pomfrey interrupted, "this school has a very long history, and students have on occasion died at Hogwarts. I'm sure you don't want that to happen on your watch. Now, please, leave me to my work!" Without another word she closed the door in Umbridge's face.  
  
As Pomfrey walked past the beds, Cho called out, as loudly as her weakened state would permit her: "Madam Pomfrey?"  
  
"Yes, my dear?"  
  
"I ... I heard just now," Cho said, tears starting to form in her eyes. "Does this mean I'm ... going to die?"  
  
"Ah, no, child," Pomfrey smiled, sitting on the bed and stroking Cho's forehead. "I didn't mean to distress you. I just had to say something to get rid of that--that--" She either couldn't find a word to describe Umbridge or didn't want to utter it in Cho's presence.  
  
"But it's going to be all right," Cho started to speak again.  
  
"Of course it is, but only if you get a good night's sleep tonight. Then a dose of Arbuthnot's Appetite Enhancement Elixir before you go down to breakfast and you'll be ready to greet the day. But first you need to get back to sleep. Not enough sleep and not enough to eat; that's what knocked out your resistance. I'll check up on you in a few minutes." With that, she rose and went back to the end of the wing.  
  
I meant about Umbridge, Cho thought as she turned over in bed. It'll be all right; the Army will see to that. We're getting stronger, stronger than we ever would have been before Umbridge came here. All thanks to Harry--  
  
Then she remembered: Harry Potter was the last person she wanted to think about. She fluffed up her pillow rather violently, and tried to get back to sleep.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 22, wherein Cho watches Gryffindor's new Seeker, and finds out (along with the rest of the wizarding world) what really happened on the night of the Third Task ... 


	22. Turning of the Tide

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SIXTH YEAR  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
22. Turning of the Tide  
  
Monday morning dawned brightly in the hospital wing. Cho felt as if spring was coming early; then realized that she had no reason to feel that way. She didn't relish what was about to happen.  
  
She looked around the wing and didn't see Madam Pomfrey. Cho tried to get dressed and out before she showed up.  
  
"No, you don't!"  
  
Cho stopped in her tracks halfway to the door. Madam Pomfrey had been in a side-office, but came out when she heard Cho heading toward the door.  
  
"I told you that you needed this before you could go back," she said, holding aloft the blue bottle of elixir.  
  
"But I don't really need it, you see. I mean, I've hardly eaten a thing all weekend, and..."  
  
"And yet I catch you sneaking out against medical advice. You surprise me, Miss Chang; most Ravenclaws have more sense."  
  
Yes, Cho thought, but most Ravenclaws haven't made utter fools of themselves in Hogsmeade in front of students and villagers. What makes you think I want to go to breakfast in the Great Hall so they can laugh at me? After that little display, I probably don't have a friend left in the castle.  
  
Madam Pomfrey didn't say anything more; she simply opened the bottle and poured some Arbuthnot's Appetite Enhancement Elixir into a spoon. It looked a bit like clotted cream, but it didn't smell so bad. Cho took the spoon and swallowed the elixir.  
  
"NOW you can go," Madam Pomfrey smiled, "and it's high time. Your Prefect has been waiting an hour for you."  
  
With that, Marietta stepped out of the side-office where Pomfrey had been. "Come on, then," she smiled at Cho, "breakfast won't keep forever."  
  
"Let's go to the dorm first," Cho said quickly; "there's something I have to take care of."  
  
Everyone seemed to be at breakfast; they passed no one in the corridors, and the Ravenclaw Common Room was empty. Cho immediately sat down at her writing-desk, and started to write on a blank scroll:  
  
"Dear Penny,  
  
You told me this summer that you didn't understand how you could love and hate someone at the same time. I think I finally understand you..."  
  
But that was as far as Cho got with the letter. The elixir had kicked in, and she had a sudden craving for oatmeal porridge, and a bit of eggs, with kippers on the side--  
  
She rolled up the scroll and put it in a drawer of her desk, thinking to finish it up later. She grabbed her school robes and book-bag, and ended up almost dragging Marietta back to the Great Hall. If anyone said anything to Cho at breakfast, or even looked at her oddly, she didn't notice. She didn't eat so very much, but it was one of the largest meals she'd had since the holidays, and left her too full to even think about lunch. When she went to the Great Hall with Marietta for dinner, she was almost back to her old self.  
  
They were talking about the Care of Magical Creatures class they had just left; it had clearly been one of the worst they had ever seen. Professor Hagrid seemed to turn up every week with fresh cuts and bruises, as if he'd spent the weekend wrestling with trolls ("Which wouldn't surprise me a bit," Marietta added). Today, however, he was talking about Nogtails, and it should have been a simple, straightforward lesson. He kept losing the thread of his lecture, however, rambling off in odd digressions, forgetting students' names and failing to assign points for answers.  
  
"Either he's got a brain injury from whatever he's been fighting," Marietta said as they entered the Great Hall for dinner, "or he's taken to drink."  
  
"Yes," Cho sighed, "I thought I smelled something of the sort on him."  
  
"Either way, he's getting to be useless as a teacher. Madam Umbridge will be letting him go at this rate."  
  
"Well, I don't much like that," Cho said as they sat down at the Ravenclaw table. "Maybe he's been drinking too much because of Umbridge and her inspections. He's afraid of the pressure."  
  
"Well, he shouldn't be afraid of inspections. No teacher worth his or her wand would be. If he and Trelawney can't handle the pressure, they're well out of here."  
  
"I have nothing to say about Trelawney," Cho muttered, helping herself to chicken-and-ham pie. "But Umbridge is part of the problem."  
  
"I don't know about that," Marietta said reflectively. "She had me into her office this weekend for a chat; talking to all the Prefects, I expect. But it seemed rather cosy, the two of us chatting like adults, away from all the young kids here."  
  
Cho nodded and was glad her mouth was full; it gave her a reason not to complain about Umbridge.  
  
Marietta waited until Cho swallowed her food; then, she lowered her voice and said, "Speaking of younger students, exactly what happened in Hogsmeade on Saturday with you and Harry?"  
  
In that moment, Cho realized that, when she walked in, she hadn't taken a second to look over to the Gryffindor table to see whether Harry was there; she also realized that she was deliberately seated with her back to the Gryffindors.  
  
Marietta sat next to her, waiting for an answer. Cho sighed. "What happened? Absolutely nothing that I want to talk about."  
  
"Why not, if it wasn't your fault?"  
  
"But I ... he ... that's just it. I don't know who's at fault."  
  
"It's just that rumours circulate in a place like this. I've heard that he struck you, that you threw something--"  
  
"The only thing thrown was confetti! Marietta, please leave it alone!"  
  
"But the point is, what's the next meeting going to be like?"  
  
"Well, we won't have to worry about that until next week anyway. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff play on Saturday, and they've called extra practices this week."  
  
"Well, when it happens?"  
  
Cho set down her fork. "I don't know," she said softly. "Part of me wants the most bloody-minded sort of revenge, and another part of me thinks that I should be the civilised one, and treat him better than he treated me, no matter how it makes me feel."  
  
"And how is that?"  
  
"I don't know," she said again. "With Cedric it all seemed to come naturally. Now it seems I've forgotten all that; nothing is working the way it should."  
  
Marietta took a sip from her water goblet. "And you don't feel like dropping him altogether?"  
  
"If I did," Cho smiled sadly, "we wouldn't be having this talk. Now, I am declaring this subject closed! We have Artithmancy tomorrow, and I still can't get chapter seventeen straight."  
  
They rose from the table and left the Great Hall, with Cho still not looking at the Gryffindors--  
  
no matter how desperately part of her wanted to.  
  
xxx  
  
"Right-o, Hogwarts, and welcome!"  
  
The stadium seats were as full as ever, even though the temperature had taken a bit of a dip by Saturday; the unseasonal warmth of the week before had been replaced by a nip in the air more typical of February.  
  
"It all has to do with the Muggles," Luna was saying to nobody in particular as the Ravenclaws walked to the Quidditch stadium. "My father says that they keep mucking about with their own potions, and it's opened up a big hole in the sky. That's why the weather's gone all a-flutter."  
  
Hole in the sky? Typical Luna, Cho thought. You'd think even Muggles would take notice of something like that ...  
  
She settled in to watch the Gryffindor team play Hufflepuff, glancing over to the Gryffindor benches at times. There he was, a spectator rather than a Seeker. Part of her remembered what she'd said and thought on the way to Hogsmeade the week before, and she wanted to go over to Harry, even if he was sitting next to Granger, wanted to talk to him, wanted to comfort him-- But then she remembered what he'd said, what he'd done...  
  
She shouldn't be looking at Harry anyway. This would be the first game for Gryffindor since Harry and the Weasley twins were banned, and Roger expected the team to study the replacements. The new Seeker was Ginny Weasley, younger sister of Ron, Fred and George; she was in Dumbledore's Army, too. The new Beaters weren't, and she had to watch them as well.  
  
She only watched them for twenty-two minutes. The Hufflepuffs took advantage of Keeper Ron Weasley, whose playing seemed even more inept than it had during his first game. They scored against him almost at will, and had run up the score as high and as fast as they could. But the Gryffindors were tenacious, hanging on until the score was 230-80. Cho, who had spent so much time thinking in terms of a gap of 150 points, knew that this was critical. If Gryffindor got the Snitch, the score would be 230-230, but Gryffindor would win. And Ginny Weasley and Summerby had both seen the Snitch, they were jostling each other for position, reaching, grabbing...  
  
Summerby hesitated.  
  
Hooch's whistle blew.  
  
Weasley grabbed the Snitch--  
  
and Gryffindor lost!  
  
"Well, of course, it was her first time out, wasn't it," Roger Davies was saying as a group of Ravenclaws walked back to the castle. "If she'd kept her eye on the rings as well as the Snitch, she'd have seen that last Hufflepuff goal and batted the Snitch away or something. She got the Snitch and handed Gryffindor the win."  
  
"Like Krum did at the World Cup," Cho nodded.  
  
Davies glanced at Cho. "Exactly. Well, it's our turn in six weeks, right? Gives us lots of time, but we can't waste any of it against Slytherin. See you at practice." And he jogged on ahead.  
  
What was that all about? Was he trying not to say something about my being at Madam Puddifoot's with Harry? Or was he afraid I'd say something about him and Annabella Smoot? Looks to be a touchy subject for both of us. Best forget all about it ...  
  
xxx  
  
Monday didn't feel out of the ordinary at first; just another day of Cho trying to avoid her dorm-mates after another nightmare (this time, she was in the garden with Cedric, who turned into a werewolf and began tearing at her throat...). She knew Marietta's soundproofing charm still held, but not for Marietta, of course. Cho still felt shame at putting her friend through this...  
  
Cho was halfway across the Common Room, headed for breakfast, when Pablo Molina's voice overpowered everyone's chatting, reading, and thinking:  
  
"POTTER SAID WHAT???!!!"  
  
Vincent Krixlow held up a copy of the Quibbler, with its dramatic headline: HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST  
  
"I can't believe you trust anything that says," Diana Fairweather said. "Didn't they say Sirius Black was really one of the Weird Sisters?"  
  
"No," Vincent smirked, "it was one of the Hobgoblins. Anyway, he goes on about Diggory and--"  
  
Pablo motioned for Vincent to hush, but Cho had already heard. She looked at Vincent for a minute, then turned and ran out of the Common Room.  
  
She found an empty classroom just the other side of the hospital wing, and there she fell onto one of the benches, crying yet again. This time, however, she started crying over her memories of Cedric, then over Harry Potter:  
  
Why didn't he tell me? I told him I had to know--I NEED to know! Why would he tell the Quibbler and not me?!  
  
She pulled herself together and went to the Great Hall. On the way, Cho thought about the interview. The Quibbler comes out on Sundays, but the interview must have been very recent. It's not as if they have a lot to write about; probably make up half of it as they need it. Anyway, it must have come out yesterday, so Harry talked to them a week, maybe ten days ago--  
  
Valentine's Day? What have I done?  
  
She broke into a run, and nearly collided with Luna Lovegood. "Ah, Cho! You just missed it."  
  
"Missed what?"  
  
"Umbridge told Harry that he's on detention for a week and he can never go to Hogsmeade ever again. Isn't that wonderful!"  
  
"I don't see how..."  
  
"Because of the interview, you see. In the Quibbler. Dad always says that you don't know if they're paying attention unless they try to attack you."  
  
Cho was utterly lost now. Umbridge was attacking Harry because of the interview?  
  
"I listened to it all, of course, when Harry was telling it. In the Three Broomsticks on Valentine's."  
  
Cho's stomach turned to lead. "Was Hermione Granger there?" she asked weakly.  
  
"Of course, and she brought along that writer who was hanging about here last year, Rita Skeeter. She did all the writing. There's a few things I would have changed, but ..."  
  
Cho ran out of the Great Hall, trying to get back to Ravenclaw. He was going to talk about that night after all, Cho thought dismally to herself, and he wanted me to be there when he did. And I-- Merlin and Morgana, what have I done?!  
  
She got to the tapestry of Athena, gave the password ("heuristic"), touched the spine of her copy of the Analects of Confucius, and found herself back in the Common Room. Jan Nigginbridge was just coming down the stairs.  
  
"Jan! Do you have a Quibbler?"  
  
"Yeh're only about the tenth person teh ask," she said. "What's so special about it, then?"  
  
"Tell you about it in class," Vincent said.  
  
This reminded Cho: she had to go up and get her books for Astronomy. They'd have Herbology after that, and maybe Cho could find out more about the interview in the Greenhouse.  
  
xxx  
  
Which is almost what happened. Professor Sinistra cut off all talk of the interview at once: "This is an Astronomy course, not a History lesson. I don't want to hear any questions about anything except the Crab Nebula. As for my own opinion, I believe that the interview speaks for itself, and that is my final word on it!"  
  
Information came easier in the Greenhouse. Madam Sprout had put them to work extracting the sap from Rumanian bitter vetch, but the whispered conversations at the benches had little to do with sap.  
  
"Have yeh read it, then?" Jan asked Raina.  
  
"Better hurry if you haven't," Vincent interrupted. "You've seen the signs."  
  
Indeed they had. Between the first and second classes of the day, posters had suddenly appeared in most of the corridors, looking like advertisements for Muggle rock concerts. Except that these posters were copies of Educational Decree Number Twenty-seven:  
  
"Any student found in possession of the magazine The Quibbler will be expelled."  
  
"There's justice for you," muttered Pablo. "Any student. That means Umbitch and the faculty can read it whenever they like."  
  
"I wonder if that includes back numbers," Diana Fairweather asked. "I mean, it didn't specify the Potter interview, did it? It just said The Quibbler."  
  
"And we all know why," Vincent whispered, glancing over at Madam Sprout, as she left Greenhouse Number Three to get some soil from the supply shed. When she'd gone, he spoke up: "It just shows that the Ministry's been talking nothing but dragon dung since the Tournament."  
  
Pablo nodded. "And Umbitch still has more to do with the Ministry than with Hogwarts."  
  
Marietta put her clippers down rather noisily on the bench. "I don't understand how you can all give automatic credence to a paper that's only been full of bizarre fantasies and outright lies!"  
  
"True enuf," Jan nodded. "Mostly they're keen on creatures that never were an' people that never did nothin'."  
  
"But this is different," Vincent shook his head. "Most of the Quibbler writers are eccentric old wizards who can't do anything else or newcomers who couldn't get a berth on the Prophet. They follow the same old formula the paper always had. This piece was by a professional--"  
  
"Skeeter?? Hardly!"  
  
"All right, she's fallen on hard times, and yes, she brought it on herself with that crap she wrote during the Tournament. But it's really Potter's words more than her writing them down. I think they ring true."  
  
"You want them to ring true," Diana said. "Look at the Death Eaters he 'names', the ones who were supposedly there when You-Know-Who came back. I mean, it's no big surprise, is it: Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy? They've been at wands drawn with Potter since First Year."  
  
"But not Walden McNair; he's in the Ministry, in Magical Creatures," Pablo interrupted. "And this man Avery, and Nott. Well, he's got a son here in Slytherin, but I don't think he's ever done anything to Potter."  
  
"Exactly!" Vincent thumped the table. "If Potter was just out to settle old scores, by telling any old story he could think of, don't you think he'd name Snape, or Umbridge, or Filch..."  
  
"I'd name Filch meself," Jan muttered, "fer some o' the things he's said about Coriander."  
  
Marietta and Cho were now just about the only students still working on the Rumanian bitter vetch, Marietta making a clear effort to hold her tongue, while Cho was wondering why it was taking Professor Sprout so long to get some potting soil from the shed.  
  
Just then, she came back from the shed with the potting soil; her eyes were red and swollen and there was a bulge like a rolled-up scroll in the pocket of her robes. She put the canvas bags of soil on a table, and turned to look at everyone looking at her. "Just ... carry on, dears, don't mind me." She retired to a corner of the greenhouse, sat on a stool and stared out through the windows at the bleak winter landscape.  
  
That does it, Cho decided: I HAVE to read that interview!  
  
Cho couldn't wait; before going to lunch she raced back to her dorm room, quickly wrote a scroll in Chinese, tied it to Quan Yin's leg and released her. She watched the owl as it flew beyond the borders of Hogwarts Academy. She still couldn't believe that the school would interfere with owl posts, but then she realizes that she was no longer sure what she believed.  
  
When she went down for lunch and dinner, she again made a point of not looking at the Gryffindor table, sitting with her back to it. But not because she was snubbing the Gryffindors. She didn't want to look at Harry--not yet. She didn't know what she'd do, how she'd act.  
  
The interview, she told herself. First I have to read the interview.  
  
This didn't prove to be easy. Marietta stayed close by Cho, as if she knew Cho was trying to find a way around Edict number twenty-seven, and Cho's disobedience would reflect on her Prefect.  
  
Cho didn't mind. She knew that she might have to wait a day to hear from her mother. Besides, as long as Marietta kept her eye on Cho, she was less likely to interfere with anyone else in Ravenclaw House. They deserved a chance to read the thing themselves.  
  
xxx  
  
Cho was up at dawn. Quan Yin hadn't returned yet. Well, it was a long way to Diagon Alley and back.  
  
She dressed and went down to the Common Room. A few Ravenclaws hastily shut books or scrolls they were reading, saw that it was Cho, then began reading again. Is it that powerful, she wondered.  
  
As she walked to the Great Hall, Michael Corner fell in behind Cho, trying to seem as if he wasn't talking to her. "Going to breakfast?"  
  
"Where else?"  
  
"You might want to think of someplace else. Umbitch is within a werewolf's whisker of losing her mind."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"I mean, yesterday she issued the Edict banning the interview, but hasn't found one single copy of it yet. She's dying to make an example of somebody—anybody."  
  
"Well, I don't have a copy, so I'm fine. Besides, I think I can take care of myself."  
  
"Here's hoping." Corner dropped back just before entering the Great Hall; when Cho went to the Ravenclaw table, Corner went by way of the Gryffindors, to chat up Ginny Weasley.  
  
Harry and Ron had raced through an early breakfast as they waited for the morning post to arrive. This time there were easily fifty owls that landed on the Gryffindor table, jostling for position and creating a complete mess of breakfast. Harry, Ron and Ginny gathered up the letters, then raced back to Gryffindor House to open and read them.  
  
Hermione stayed behind to read the Daily Prophet and see how (or if) the Ministry had reacted to the Quibbler interview. Which meant that she got to witness Cho's small act of rebellion.  
  
Cho had entered the Great Hall while Ron and Harry were gathering the day's letters. They didn't see her, and she was of two minds about that. It was still less than two weeks since Cho was publicly humiliated at Madam Puddifoot's—although she had to admit that she embarrassed herself about as much as Harry had embarrassed her. Still, she wasn't quite ready to forgive him; but then again, if even half the things people were saying about the interview were true; but then, what did one thing have to do with the other anyway… By then she was seated at the Ravenclaw table and Harry and Ron were gone.  
  
She glanced at the Head Table and saw Professor Umbridge looking out over the students, her head slowly turning side to side like a snake's. Cho knew exactly what she was looking for. She was desperate to expel someone under the new Edict, just to prove that her words still carried the weight of the Ministry.  
  
Quan Yin set down in front of Cho; she quickly untied the scroll from the owl's leg and started reading. As she read, her eyes grew wider and wider; she had to remember to breathe…  
  
"Miss Chang."  
  
Umbridge had fixed her gaze on the Ravenclaw Seeker. Even if Umbridge still had no clue about Dumbledore's Army, she must have heard about Harry and Cho's interest in each other—unsettled though it may be. The odds seemed good that Cho would have a copy of the Quibbler interview.  
  
Cho looked to the Head Table: "Yes, ma'am?"  
  
"I would like you to read aloud the letter you were reading so intently just now."  
  
All eyes were on Cho. If she had been reading the interview, the students knew that Umbridge could expel her from Hogwarts on the spot.  
  
Cho nodded her head slightly and said, barely above a whisper, "Yes, ma'am." She stood up, picked up Quan Yin's document, and started to read, loudly and clearly:  
  
"JIN TIAN SHIWU LAO DE NANWU HA LI PO--"  
  
"STOP THAT!" Umbridge's face was red, rapidly turning purple. She actually jumped down from the Head Table and walked down to stand across from Cho. She obviously counted on her closeness intimidating any student; all Cho felt for this silly little woman was contempt, but she tried hard not to show it.  
  
"Once again, please, in English," Umbridge's simpering voice could still be heard throughout the Great Hall.  
  
"Ma'am, this is a letter about family matters…"  
  
"I don't recall asking what it was about," Umbridge said, attempting a sweet smile. "From the beginning, please."  
  
Cho cleared her throat and began again:  
  
"Dear Cho,  
  
Your grandmother is feeling much better after her bout of bloody diarrhea. She—"  
  
"STOP IT!!" Umbridge's face had gone to full purple. She snatched the scroll from Cho's hand and pointed her wand at the meticulously brushed Chinese characters. "Translingua!" The letter didn't change. "Anglo!" The letter didn't change.  
  
Cho stood at the table across from Umbridge, waiting for the crowning moment to ask quietly, "Will there be anything else, ma'am?"  
  
Umbridge looked mad enough to take on a Dementor. She threw Cho's letter down on the table and stormed toward the doors to the Great Hall. But, before she was halfway there, the miracle happened:  
  
someone giggled.  
  
Nobody knew who or at which table, and the room fell silent again as Umbridge stopped in her tracks and scanned the room, looking for the offender. She was too short, however, to see all the faces clearly from the main floor, so she gave it up and continued, no less angrily, marching toward the doors. As she passed, she heard soft chuckles and smothered snickers, but knowing that she wouldn't be able to catch the students only made her angrier.  
  
As soon as she had passed out of the Great Hall, students simply gave up and burst out laughing. Not all of the students, but two or three dozen, and even a Slytherin or two. Umbridge was still in charge, but she had been made to look a complete fool. It was as if Cho had cast a Riddikulus spell on her.  
  
Roger Davies, who had given up trying to hide the grin on his face, pointed at Cho's letter. "Is that?"  
  
Cho nodded. "I asked my mother to send it along. I'm glad she knew enough to protect it."  
  
Roger chuckled. "Good one, Cho."  
  
He went back to Ravenclaw House, while Cho gathered up the letter and went to Muggle Studies. However, she ended up hearing not one word that Professor Idylwyld was saying. She couldn't tear herself away from the interview. Even in Chinese, Harry's words were so powerful that Cho couldn't help it. She read and reread the Quibbler interview, until her eyes swam with tears.  
  
She had stopped being resentful that Harry would talk about that night with Rita Skeeter but not with her. In a sense, she felt that Harry really was speaking to her, through Rita, telling Cho what she needed to hear but in a way in which he was comfortable. Or as comfortable as he could be, recalling Voldemort's arising from near-death in the churchyard of Little Hangleton, surrounded by his Death Eaters—some of whom Harry had the bravery to call by name! And those names…! Wizards and witches in the Ministry were apparently still under Voldemort's control.  
  
But there was time enough to worry about that later. Cho knew what she had to do. Harry had given out his schedule to Dumbledore's Army back in October, in case any of them needed to contact him, and Cho needed to contact him now. She caught up with Harry outside of McGonagall's Transfiguration classroom. Without a word of greeting she took Harry's hand in both of hers.  
  
"I'm sorry for shouting at you," "I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions about Granger", "I'm sorry about running off and ruining our one day together,",,, Those sentences and a dozen others jumbled themselves in her mind, trying to be spoken at once, and all that came out, barely above a whisper as she stood close enough to Harry to breathe the words into his ear, was, "I'm really, really sorry." She took a breath. "That interview was…" Again she had to stop, with countless adjectives competing for her tongue. She breathed again, and the next words out of her mouth were inspired by Harry's Gryffindor patch: "so brave." Again a breath, as Cho tried to sort out what of a hundred sentences to say next. She started with, "It made me cry…" But Cho didn't mean the interview, although she wept afresh for Cedric as she finally read Harry's first-hand account of the details of his death. She meant to say, "It made me cry to think of what a fool I've been, and how awfully I've treated you…"  
  
But it was as if Cho only now became aware of the rest of the Fifth Year Gryffindors watching her. As the Ravenclaw Seeker she could bear having the entire school watch her on a broom, but not at this time and place. So she quickly kissed Harry on the cheek; then, with damp eyes but a happier smile on her face than most of the students at Hogwarts had seen all year, she turned and dashed away to her Arithmancy class. Once she got there, though, she didn't focus on the lesson. Her thoughts were too full of Harry's interview—and of Harry, and the feel of his hand in hers.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 23, wherein Cho plays her toughest match yet against a desperate Slytherin team ...  
  
A/N: If the Chinese translation isn't proper, in vocabulary or grammar, I take full blame. 


	23. The Army and the Team

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SIXTH YEAR  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
23. The Army and the Team  
  
Thursday evening answered Marietta's question: what would happen at the next meeting of Dumbledore's Army, after Harry and Cho's disastrous date at Madam Puddifott's? At that evening's meeting, Harry was congratulated by almost all the members of the DA, who kept pressing him with questions based on the interview. It kept him from starting the lessons on time. But so did the absence of Cho and Marietta.  
  
Marietta had seemed to Cho to be stalling, finding one reason or another not to go to the meeting just yet, until Cho finally put her foot down.  
  
"If you'd rather not go at all tonight, just say so!"  
  
"I would have thought YOU'D rather not go tonight, after that Hogsmeade business."  
  
"That's all over and done."  
  
"Are you certain?"  
  
Cho, who really wasn't certain, bit her lip, then smiled. "Only one way to find out."  
  
Once they were in the corridors, Cho grabbed Marietta's sleeve and practically ran up to the seventh floor, to the enchanted classroom. Both were out of breath as they burst in, five minutes late.  
  
"Sorry, Harry," Cho panted, her face flushed but smiling.  
  
Harry smiled just as broadly as he looked at her. "It's all right."  
  
They seemed to have forgotten about the others, standing there, smiling at each other--until Hermione Granger cleared her throat rather loudly.  
  
"Now that we're ALL here--"  
  
Harry seemed to snap out of his trance. "Right. Deflection spells. Erm, this is a Fifth Year level defensive spell--or it would be, if we had a proper teacher."  
  
We do now, Cho thought.  
  
xxx  
  
At the beginning of the week, Roger Davies had posted a notice in the Common Room that the Quidditch team--Regulars and Reserves--would meet for Saturday morning's practice in Flitwick's Charms classroom after breakfast. This was a bit odd, but Cho trusted Roger after all these years.  
  
When she and the others showed up at the classroom, Roger was waiting. He had put some numbers up on the board:  
  
Gryffindor 390 / Hufflepuff 340 / Ravenclaw 250 / Slytherin 40  
  
They all understood; this was the number of points each House had scored so far. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff had played two matches so far, so they had the higher scores.  
  
"Right," Roger said when the team had taken seats near the board. "This is where we are. We're really in a great position. If we win against Slytherin, we'll be the only undefeated team at Hogwarts; that makes it certain we'll be in the Cup finals. Even if we lose--"  
  
"Which we won't," Chambers interrupted.  
  
"As I was saying, one hundred fifty points puts us ahead of Gryffindor. That's a Snitch. So we're probably going to the finals, and we'll probably be up against Gryffindor. But first," he pointed at the board, "we've got to get past Slytherin."  
  
"Shouldn't be too hard," Becksnee said. "That's a pitifully low score."  
  
"Yes," Roger nodded, "but we've seen this before. What does their forty points tell us?"  
  
Cho spoke up almost without thinking: "They'll be desperate. They'd have to run up 300 points to make it to the finals, win or lose. So they're going to play dirty."  
  
"Dirtier than usual?" Molina chuckled.  
  
"No doubt," Roger nodded. "So we have to practice some specialty plays and develop some special strategies. I want to win this, and I want to win the Cup, but I want to do it fairly. We can't let the Slytherin bag of tricks provoke us into copying them. So, we'll meet again at noon on the pitch, and I'll try to schedule us for two practices a week. That's all. Cho."  
  
"Yes, Rog?"  
  
"Stay back a minute."  
  
The others filed out of the classroom, talking amongst themselves about their previous experience playing against the Slytherins. After a minute, Cho and Roger were the only ones in the classroom.  
  
"Cho."  
  
"Yes?" She was hoping this would be about Quidditch and not about Madam Puddifoot's.  
  
"You think Malfoy will try the Wronski Feint?"  
  
"I think he'll try it if he thinks it can work."  
  
"You said the other day you were thinking of a way to counter it."  
  
"Well, that's easy, actually. I just won't rise to the bait."  
  
"But that's what makes the Wronski so effective. You can't be sure he hasn't seen the Snitch, can you?"  
  
"But that's where Seekers like Lynch make their mistake. They stop looking for the Snitch and focus on the opposing Seeker. I know better than to trust Malfoy on anything."  
  
"He's got a Nimbus Oh One."  
  
"Harry's got a Firebolt, and I was able to cope with that. When the time comes," Cho smiled, "leave Mayfoy to me."  
  
xxx  
  
So a month passed, the gloom of late winter becoming first the rains, then glowing warmth of early spring. Students all over Hogwarts, sensing that the end of the year was almost in sight, buckled down harder on their studies. Cho buckled down harder, because, in addition to her studies, she had Quidditch practice twice a week and Dumbledore's Army once a week. But, unlike her studies, those were a joy. She was born to fly, and practiced with the team in all weathers, and even stayed after an extra hour whenever she could. Pablo Molina had been forbidden to play that year by his parents because of bad grades, but he was still a Reserve, and he would pretend to be Malfoy as she worked and reworked and perfected her strategy to counter Malfoy if he should use the Wronski Feint.  
  
Cho worked just as hard, and found just as much joy, in her secret Defense Against the Dark Arts group, and Harry was a large part of it. They hardly exchanged words before or after the meetings, which suited Cho just fine. I think we'd both rather forget Madam Puddifoot's, she told herself; at least now we have a chance to start over again. No demands, no arguments; just get to know each other a bit better, and at the end of the year, maybe on the train...  
  
One bit of drama broke up the weeks before the Ravenclaw match with Slytherin. On a Monday evening two weeks before the match, Cho was browsing the shelves of thre Ravenclaw Common Room. She'd finished the next day's assignments for Arithmancy and Advanced Muggle Studies. The latter assignment (three scrolls on "Why is there baseball?") put her in a sporting frame of mind, and she was looking for "Quidditch Through the Ages," to see what Kennilworthy Whisp had to say about Josef Wronski...  
  
"Hey, everyone! Come quick!"  
  
Michael Corner had just burst through the bookcase, nearly breathless from running.  
  
"Trelawney's been sacked! She's pitching a troll-fit in the entrance hall!"  
  
Almost the entire Common Room cleared out to go and watch. Cho hesitated a minute. She never forgave Trelawney--never forgave the art of Divination--for failing to foresee Cedric's death in the Third Task. She tried to not even think of Trelawney, and thought ill of her when she did. But this was more than just a bit of gossip. Umbridge was extending her power, throwing out faculty she didn't like for whatever reason. The next step would be to bring in someone new, someone who would probably follow--like Umbridge--the Ministry line that Voldemort had not returned. She decided to go see what was happening.  
  
But, by the time she got to the hospital wing and was headed toward the entrance hall, she saw a group of Ravenclaws coming back.  
  
Beater "Jinx" Jenkins was in the group. "It's over; you missed the drama."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"Trelawney was in the hall, bottle of wine in one hand, going completely to pieces. Umbitch was there, totally enjoying her moment of triumph, but that's when Dumbledore came back and spoiled it."  
  
"Did he put Trelawney back on the faculty?"  
  
"He couldn't, according to Umbitch and Edict Number Whatever. But Dumbledore says that Trelawney can still live at Hogwarts, even if she's not a teacher; that she hadn't taken that power from the Headmaster yet; nor his ability to name Trelawney's successor. And you'll never guess who's our Divinations prof now!"  
  
They broke off the conversation long enough to give the password ("epithelial"), pass under the tapestry and through the bookcase into the Common Room.  
  
"You're saying it isn't Grubbly-Plank? She's pretty much substituted for everyone at one time or another."  
  
"Nope. Dumbledore brought in a centaur!"  
  
Cho knew about centaurs, of course, but only as much as she'd learned in Magical Creatures, and that was little enough. They were a standoffish race, devoted more to astrology than anything else, and were classified by the Ministry as magical beasts in spite of their human aspect. Perhaps that was why they avoided the company of humans. Some centaurs were known to live in the forbidden forest, although few of the students had ever seen one; for Dumbledore not only to find one, but induce him to join the faculty, was a rarity indeed.  
  
Still, Cho shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me." And she went back to looking for "Quidditch Through the Ages."  
  
xxx  
  
"Right-o, Hogwarts, and welcome!"  
  
April 3 dawned clear and mild, with a light breeze; the kind of day that would bring on spring fever in almost anyone. But the Quidditch stadium was almost filled with milling students, cheering and shouting even before the players came onto the field.  
  
The Slytherin team knew that it had to beat Ravenclaw, by the widest possible margin, just to get to the Finals. And the Ravenclaws knew that they knew it ...  
  
"Everyone, keep on your toes!" Roger was telling the team for the fifth time that week. "Help out the Beater if it looks like they're going to try to force the Quaffle. And make sure they don't harm the Seeker!"  
  
"We know all this, Rog," Becksnee interrupted. "Watch Millbanks, watch Chang, and don't trust a Slytherin as far as you can throw a hippogriff."  
  
"Right. Erm ... right." Roger still seemed nervous to Cho, but there wasn't time for talk; the signal had been given; they lined up and walked onto the pitch, brooms in hand.  
  
"Here's the team from Ravenclaw!" Lee Jordan shouted excitedly. "Davies! Bradley! Chambers! Jenkins! Becksnee! Millbanks! And Chang!"  
  
Most of the crowd in the stadium cheered--all but the Slytherin supporters, of course. Cho knew that it wasn't necessarily that they loved Ravenclaw, but that they hated Slytherin. Well, she thought, tightening her grip on her Two Sixty, today you'll get a reason to love Ravenclaw.  
  
Just then, Jordan was announcing the Slytherin line-up. When he announced the names of Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy, Cho heard the cheers from the Slytherins but felt the cold silence of the rest of the students. She looked straight at the three, and especially at Malfoy.  
  
You. Your fathers are Death Eaters. They were there when Voldemort came back. They were there when Cedric was murdered. I'm playing this match for Ravenclaw, and for Dumbledore's Army.  
  
Whether or not Malfoy knew what Cho was thinking, he stared back at her, with just as cold and mean a gaze as he ever gave her. As they mounted their brooms, Draco looked straight at Cho and quickly drew his finger across his throat.  
  
Cho smiled at him. A threat, Mister Malfoy? she thought. We'll see who survives the match.  
  
Hooch blew the whistle. Fourteen brooms kicked off into the sky.  
  
"And the match is under way!" Jordan announced. "Ravenclaw takes first possession of the Quaffle, and--oh, I say!"  
  
The match hadn't been on for ten seconds, when Crabbe and Goyle had launched their Bludgers at Millbanks. He'd dodged one, but the other caught his right shoulder.  
  
Roger called for a time out as he went to check on Millbanks. "Don't worry, Rog," Millbanks smiled; "I can Keep this lot off one-handed."  
  
Hooch blew her whistle and play resumed.  
  
"Davies still has the Quaffle, and he's off to the Slytherin goals and--I DON'T BELIEVE IT!"  
  
Once again the Slytherin Beaters had ganged up on the Ravenclaw Keeper. This time, the Bludgers had hit Millbanks on the right elbow and on the forehead. He could barely stay on the broom, much less stay in as Keeper.  
  
"Damn them," Roger muttered. He pointed to the Reserve bench.  
  
"Looks like Davies is calling up the Reserve Keeper, Wilmer Bloodwort. He's only a Third Year, and we haven't seen him in action yet. Well, I expect he's going to get a workout today, as ... WHAT THE--"  
  
McGonagall scolded Jordan for his next few words, but he certainly had reason to curse: Crabbe and Goyle were after Bloodwort now. One Bludger caught him in the back of the head, the other hit his ribcage.  
  
Madam Hooch called a halt to the play. "Ten points to Ravenclaw, possession of the Quaffle, and if you attack a Keeper again when the Quaffle is nowhere near him, you two are on the bench!"  
  
Crabbe and Goyle nodded, but their mouths were curled up into sneers. They didn't seem to care what might happen to them.  
  
In fact, they'd accomplished what they'd set out to do. Bloodwort also had to take the bench after less than a minute of play. With his Reserve Keeper out as well, Roger started to look desperate.  
  
"I've got it," Molina said, standing up from the Reserve bench.  
  
"You've never played Keeper before!"  
  
"No, but I've played Slytherin before. I can deal with that lot."  
  
Roger only had a second to make up his mind. "No; if this is going to be their approach, you should stay ready in case we need a Chaser." He looked at who was still available, and called to a Fourth-Year Chaser. "Lloyd-Lewis! Take the rings. Jenkins; Becksnee; why in bloody hell weren't you watching the Keeper?"  
  
"Same reason you weren't, Rog," Jenkins said; "we didn't expect this one." In truth, they'd expected Slytherin to play dirty, and practiced accordingly, but they hadn't expected the team to stoop so low.  
  
"Change in strategy, then: safeguard the Keeper, and let the Chasers look after themselves. We don't know how much they're willing to try to get away with."  
  
Cho was watching all of this from the corner of one eye; even when time was called, she hadn't stopped circling the stadium, looking for the Golden Snitch. As much as she wanted to leave it off and pay the Slytherins back in their own coin, she knew that she couldn't; that they'd expect her to do exactly that, leaving Malfoy a free hand to Seek the Snitch himself. Not today, Malfoy, not today...  
  
"Davies has the Quaffle, passes it to-- No, Slytherin intercepts it, they're charging the rings, Warrington, to Montague, to Pucey, Pucey fakes a shot right at Lloyd-Lewis, and--chases the Keeper off, damn it all--"  
  
"JORDAN!"  
  
"Sorry--and Slytherin's on the board at ten-all."  
  
From that moment on, Ravenclaw was in desperate trouble. Crabbe and Goyle targeted the Ravenclaw Chasers and Beaters no less viciously than they had the first two Keepers. Ravenclaw simply couldn't keep the Quaffle long enough to make another goal; they kept losing possession to Slytherin, and the three Chasers would charge the rings, intimidate the novice Keeper and score handily. In a matter of minutes, the score was 100-10.  
  
Cho, away from the action, began to get more and more nervous. They were ignoring her! Had they all guessed wrong about Slytherin's strategy?  
  
Then she saw Malfoy start to climb. She took a good look, not at him, but at the sky above him. There was no Snitch there.  
  
This is it, she smiled to herself; he's trying to set me up. Well, Mister Malfoy, don't mind if I do...  
  
"Malfoy seems to see something up there, and Chang's following after," Jordan told the crowd. "This horribly one-sided duel could be over soon, one way or another."  
  
Malfoy levelled off and began drifting almost lazily from one side of the stadium to the other. Cho stayed behind him, but made sure that he knew she was there.  
  
"And Chang is still there, not taking the kind of aggressive play we've come to expect... Wait a minute! Malfoy sees something, he's diving down, Chang's in hot pursuit!"  
  
Fifty yards up, Cho calculated...  
  
"And Warrington scores again! Slytherin up now with one hundred ten!"  
  
Thirty yards...  
  
"Malfoy still diving, Chang right behind him, practically in free fall..."  
  
Twenty yards ... fifteen yards ... twelve yards--NOW!  
  
Cho bore down with a powerful Sprint, and--  
  
"I don't believe it! Chang's in front of Malfoy!"  
  
When she was less than a yard from the pitch, she suddenly turned hard left, skimming across the grass. Malfoy involuntarily turned his head to watch.  
  
He did not, however, turn his broom.  
  
"Ouch," Lee Jordan muttered as Malfoy hit the pitch, "he's going to miss a few classes after that."  
  
Cho couldn't help smiling; her strategy had worked, and there was even scattered applause when Malfoy fell into his own trap and crashed. But, more importantly-- she saw the Snitch!  
  
She put on as much speed as she could, chasing it up, down, over to the left and back again...  
  
"Another Slytherin Goal! That's one-twenty!"  
  
No! Can't let them win it on goals! Cho reached out, missed it, reached again--  
  
"And that's the match!" Lee shouted. "After some really filthy Slytherin--"  
  
"Jordan!"  
  
"That is, some high questionable plays by Slytherin, Ravenclaw takes the Snitch and wins the match, one-sixty to one-twenty, all thanks to the truly stellar flying of Seeker Cho Chang! They couldn't have pulled this one out without her!"  
  
Cho could barely hear Jordan over the roar of the crowd in the stands, or over the beating of her heart.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 24, wherein, in one night, Cho finds the greatest magical triumph of her life and narrowly avoids capture for it... 


	24. Expecto Patronum

OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SIXTH YEAR  
  
By monkeymouse  
  
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.  
  
Rated: PG  
  
Spoilers: Everything  
  
xxx  
  
24. "Expecto Patronum"  
  
The party that night at Ravenclaw was everything the one in December was, after they'd beaten Hufflepuff. There were congratulations and commisserations with the teammates who had struggled to finish with a win; there was anticipation of the next match.  
  
And there was Cho off in a corner, speaking to nobody, and with nobody speaking to her.  
  
It wasn't that Cho had somehow disgraced herself during the match; to the contrary, her catching the Snitch accounted for all but ten of Ravenclaw's points. But the rumours persisted, even if they weren't true: Cho could blow up unexpectedly, at the least little thing, or at nothing at all. Yes, she had been weepy since Cedric's death, but why couldn't anyone seem to understand that? Yes, she had blown up at Harry in Hogsmeade, but there was a reason for it, and no Ravenclaw was likely to make that mistake.  
  
And yet the rumours persisted. Some (who weren't there, of course) said that Cho actually pulled her wand on Harry at Madam Puddifoots and threatened to hex a certain part of his anatomy; others said that she had found a deserted classroom and turned it into a shrine to Cedric Diggory, and wept alone there every night. It was madness, of course, but Cho couldn't deny any of it without seeming as emotional and overwrought as the rumours themselves painted her.  
  
Only a handful of Ravenclaws knew better: her teammates, and the students in the DA. And Marietta, her Prefect, and at this point her closest friend. She still treated Cho's occasional nightmare, although these were diminishing in frequency. Marietta also had to admit that Cho could always be counted on to have a cheery disposition for a meeting of Dumbledore's Army.  
  
Which is why, at the party, Cho sat alone at the bay window in the Common Room. Marietta brought her a cup of pumpkin punch, then sat beside her. She seemed to want to ask Cho something.  
  
"Listen, Cho, I... I've been getting an earful from my mum about Harry Potter."  
  
"What's he done now?"  
  
"Well, nothing really, but she hears talk around the Network."  
  
"Can she do that--listen in on Floo conversations?"  
  
"She's not supposed to, I guess, but Fudge asked her about certain, as he put it, 'wizards of interest,' and Harry's name keeps coming up."  
  
"Well, you know there's not much he can get up to now."  
  
"Except for the group."  
  
"Well, you can't talk me out of Monday's meeting, and that's that. It should be the biggest thing we've done yet!" Cho realized her voice was rising; she looked around, was sure she was being ignored, and sipped her punch.  
  
"Anyway," Marietta added after a minute of silence, "you're looking lots cheerier lately." She looked like she wanted to say something else, but instead stood up and went to get some batwing cookies.  
  
xxx  
  
"The wand work isn't so important," Harry was saying to Dumbledore's Army two nights later, "but to produce a Patronus you have to focus on your happiest memory of all time."  
  
Cho started thinking: something to do with Cedric? Never; too much sadness mixed in with the joy. Something about Harry? No, for the same reason, only moreso. Coming to Hogwarts? Making the team? Beating Slytherin in that pickup game in her Third Year? Beating Hufflepuff in December in her first real victory? Saturday's win over Slytherin?  
  
No; go further back, Cho told herself. Go back to childhood, when everything was simpler, when emotions were pure, when you felt happiness and nothing but happiness.  
  
Cho closed her eyes, focused her mind, and suddenly she was five years old and with her parents in Regents Park. They'd taken her on a Sunday afternoon outing; she fed the noisy clacking ducks and watched the gray fidgety squirrels, and then she looked out across the pond...  
  
and there, coming straight toward her, was a bird. The largest bird she'd ever seen; it towered with its long neck over the ducks like a giraffe over zebras, or so she imagined. This blazingly pure white bird with the black mask and yellow bill and neck as long and straight as a lamp-post sailed across the surface of the pond right up to Cho, who wasn't the least bit afraid of it, nor was it afraid of her. They simply looked at each other, trying to figure out what would happen next.  
  
What happened next was Lotus speaking: "Cho, honey, that's a swan."  
  
THAT'S a swan? Like the one in her story-book about the Ugly Duckling? The small, ugly, lonely little duck which Cho had believed herself to be would grow up to be THIS…  
  
The image of the swan in the park completely filled her mind, and the words were out of her mouth before she even realized it:  
  
"Expecto Patronum!!"  
  
Silver light exploded out of the end of her wand, resolving itself into the image of a swan like none had ever seen: its neck stretched out full, its wing-span almost too large for the classroom. The wind of its passing whipped the robes of the rest of Dumbledore's Army. Everyone there, including Harry, watched in amazement as it glided up to the ceiling chandelier and circled it three times before it dissolved into silver vapour.  
  
When it was gone, some of the students started applauding. Cho had her hands over her mouth in delighted surprise. She stopped looking up at the ceiling and looked down at Harry, who was absolutely beaming, and thought: I did that, I did that and you showed me the way to do that, and if I live for two centuries I will never receive a finer gift than you have given me tonight. I love you, Harry Potter…  
  
Now that the rest of Dumbledore's Army had watched someone produce a Patronus--someone who wasn't The Boy Who Lived--and realized that they could do it, too, the whole group broke up and tried to follow Cho's lead. None of them, however, seemed to have any success. A few wands squirted out silver light, but it seldom came to more than that.  
  
Cho, meanwhile, found her Patronus-creating almost intoxicating. She would produce them one after the other; smaller than the first one, because now she was learning to control her power and not merely create. But she had spent so many months either living in sorrow, or with sorrow as a background for fleeting joys, that she was almost overwhelmed. She hadn't felt this, well, this HAPPY since Cedric...  
  
One other student produced a Patronus that night, and at first Cho wouldn't have bet even a Knut that it would have been Hermione Granger. The Gryffindor seemed serious, even grim, after Cho's triumph with the Swan Patronus, and was determined to simply master this spell as she had mastered so many others. But it's not about competing, Cho thought as if she were coaching Granger; it's about feeling the joy...  
  
Granger then stopped her fruitless attempts, lowered her wand, closed her eyes and concentrated. And a bit of a smile came to her lips...  
  
For a fleeting second, Cho wondered what brought about that smile, and did it have anything to do with Harry--  
  
"Expecto Patronum!" This time, a flash of silver burst out of Granger's wand and resolved into--  
  
An otter? What a strange choice, Cho thought.  
  
But the strangeness of Granger's Patronus, and the worry about what might have made her happy enough to produce it, were swept aside when the otter appeared, seeming to swim through the air on its back, kicking with its powerful hind legs.  
  
One thought remained in Cho's head and heart watching the Otter Patronus: How cute! Surely this is how they defeat Dementors, Cho thought: by awakening a happiness in you that no Dementor can take. It was a shame that Marietta had to catch cold this night, of all nights. Just being here with Patronuses in the room would doubtless cheer her up; they work better than Cheering Charms!  
  
So Cho shared the spotlight with Granger: each would produce a Patronus, then another when the previous one faded. Harry finally had to interrupt them.  
  
"You're doing great, both of you, but remember that this isn't a game. You'll need to be able to do this when you're under attack by Dementors."  
  
"Oh, don't be such a killjoy," Cho laughed as she watched her most recent Swan Patronus fly up to the vaulted ceiling of the Room of Requirement. "They're so pretty!"  
  
"They're not supposed to be pretty; they're supposed to protect you."  
  
"They are sort of nice, aren't they," Hermione Granger smiled, watching the antics of her Otter Patronus.  
  
Harry had turned to some of the others, telling them that he had learned to produce his Stag Patronus after being threatened by a Dementor--at least, by a boggart pretending to be a Dementor.  
  
Granger looked as if she wanted to say something to Harry, to contradict something he'd just said, but instead she sighed and turned to Cho. She smiled at Cho, and seemed to want to say something to the Ravenclaw. Just then, the door to the classroom opened and closed, seemingly by itself.  
  
Cho didn't worry much at first, and created a Swan Patronus the size of her bookbag. She watched in delight as it "swam" two feet above the floor of the classroom. Then she noticed: the room was gradually falling silent. Everyone was watching Harry in conversation by the door with a house-elf. Cho couldn't hear the conversation; just a series of hoots and howls from the house-elf as it seemed to wrestle with Harry--or with itself. But then she looked at the students closer to the door and saw that they, like Harry, were afraid...  
  
Harry turned suddenly to the class. "WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! RUN!!"  
  
No leaving in twos and threes this time; it was a mass stampede for the door. Cho wanted to grab Harry's sleeve, but she'd been trapped between the Weasley twins, and got swept into the hall before she knew it. She ran toward the far staircase--it was closest to the library--but stopped at the head of the stairs. There was an old suit of armour, and, just beside it, standing perfectly still but otherwise out in the open for all to see, was Luna Lovegood.  
  
"This way!" Cho hissed.  
  
Luna shook her head. "Snakes have awfully bad eyesight, you know. If I stand perfectly still, they won't see me."  
  
"But they're not--" Cho gave it up and grabbed Luna's sleeve. "Come on!"  
  
When she started down the stairs, Cho heard shouts coming from near the classroom; one of those shouting sounded dreadfully like Draco Malfoy. Not a snake, Cho thought, but the next worst thing...  
  
On the sixth floor landing, Cho stopped; she could hear the pounding of steps coming up from below, and more steps racing down from above. She dragged Luna down one corridor after another, finally stopped by the stairs leading to the Astronomy Tower. There was no hope for it; she could still hear running steps behind her. She pulled Luna up to the Tower, closed the door, and braced it with Professor Sinistra's telescope, which weighed about fifty pounds.  
  
"Oh!" Luna said, as if just realizing that she was outdoors; "what a lovely evening!" She climbed up onto the ramparts and began strolling along the edge, singing to herself:  
  
"Mud, mud, glorious mud/Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood..."  
  
Cho realized that the telescope wouldn't keep their pursuers out; they'd knock it away from the door with one good shove. Unless--she drew her wand.  
  
"Engorgio!"  
  
The telescope immediaterly grew to five times its size--and weight. Confident that this would slow them down, she looked around the tower. There was no other way on or off it. She and Luna were trapped.  
  
No; whatever's going on, it won't end like this! Got to think of a way out of this. What to do in a spot like this? What would Harry do...  
  
What DID Harry do!  
  
She looked over the ramparts toward the Quidditch stadium, and the shed where the school's brooms were kept. By rights, it ought to be locked up, and this might not even work. Still, Madam Hooch could be a little lax sometimes, especially after a game weekend. In any case, it was the only thing to try. She pointed her wand at the shed and took a deep breath.  
  
"Accio Comet!"  
  
The sun had almost completely set, and it was difficult now to even see the shed, much less whether anything was--YES! Cho's Comet Two Sixty was sailing along on its own, headed straight for the Astronomy Tower.  
  
The pounding on the door grew more insistent, the voices on the other side of it louder and angrier. The broom seemed to take forever to get to her, during which time Cho was busy thanking every ancestor she could name. Finally, it clattered at her feet on the stone floor. She hopped on at once, and, without a word, so did Luna, who was grinning from ear to ear.  
  
The broom lifted slowly off, unaccustomed to a double load. Cho stopped just beyond the parapet, pulled out her wand again and pointed it at the massive telescope:  
  
"Finite Incantatem!"  
  
Professor Sinistra's telescope immediately shrunk back to its original size, as Cho and Luna dropped down out of sight, headed for the West Tower and Ravenclaw House.  
  
However, as soon as Cho turned toward their tower, Luna began singing again, very loudly:  
  
"Oh, you'll never never never/Find a girl as clever/As the Girls of Ravenclaw!/You'll--"  
  
"LUNA!" Cho regretted shouting at Luna, and her voice dropped back down to a whisper. "We don't want them to find us."  
  
Luna simply smiled at Cho.  
  
Luna, you're not mad; I know you're not, Cho thought as she flew toward her dormitory window. You were Sorted into Ravenclaw; you know that Voldemort is back, and that a new war could begin at any time. But, if you get through this war in one piece, it'll be nothing less than a blessing from Rowena Herself...  
  
They sailed into the Sixth Year girls' dormitory through the window. Luna at once bounced off the broom, gave a friendly wave, mouthed the words "Thank you!" and then dashed through the open door and down the steps.  
  
Cho looked around, and it took a few seconds to realize what was wrong: Marietta wasn't there. If she was too sick to attend the DA meeting, she should still be in her own bed. It hadn't even been slept in.  
  
Cho was worried; suppose the raid on the classroom was one of several raids. What if they'd come to Ravenclaw looking for Marietta or Corner, Padma or Luna... She hid her broom in her wardrobe and ran downstairs to the Common Room. Vincent Krixlow was there, puzzling over an astrological chart.  
  
"If you're going out," he said without looking up, "tell that lot to stuff their hats in their cake-holes. I'm trying to concentrate."  
  
Cho could now hear shouting and pounding beyond the tapestry. She went through the bookcase, and the commotion got louder. She took a deep breath, adjusted the expression onn her face, and opened the tapestry just a crack.  
  
"Yes?" she smiled. "Can we help you?"  
  
Three or four of the older Slytherin were there, led by Adrian Pucey, one of Slytherin's Chasers. "How long have you been in there?"  
  
"I came back right after dinner," Cho said, which was true as far as it went.  
  
"Well, I need to know if anyone's come in during the last few minutes."  
  
A hand clapped itself onto Pucey's shoulder, and a voice asked, with cold and level anger, "Well, why would you need to know that?"  
  
Roger Davies had come up behind Pucey and the others, who all seemed to be Slytherins.  
  
"I am here," Pucey started, "under the authority of Professor Umbridge's Inquisitorial..."  
  
"I don't care if you're here with the Coldstream Bleeding Guard! If someone's broken a rule, you'd better be prepared to say who broke what rule. Otherwise, you lot can bugger off."  
  
"If you think you can overrule Professor Umbridge--"  
  
"If she wants to drag somebody out of Ravenclaw House, she'd better drag herself down here first and tell us who and why!"  
  
Pucey knew that Davies was right about school rules, and didn't have enough imagination to think of a way around him on the spot. He glowered at Davies, then at Cho, then led his fellow Slytherins back in the direction of the Great Hall.  
  
Cho had been holding her breath, and let it out all at once. "Thanks, Rog."  
  
"Don't thank me. We have to talk." Cho held open the tapestry for him; he strode past her and threw himself into a comfy chair in the Common Room. "Didn't I tell you lot not to get into anything dicey with Umbridge on the prowl?"  
  
Cho knew why she was being scolded, but also knew that she could neither confirm nor explain what she had been doing with Dumbledore's Army. "What do you mean, dicey?"  
  
"Don't think you can play me like I'm a Snitch! I'm your Captain, and I thought I was your friend. I think I deserve better than this!"  
  
Cho, now desperate to change the subject, said the first thing that came to mind: "I would have thought you deserved better than Annabella Smoot, but apparently I was wrong. Tell me, Rog; when you invited me to Puddifoot's, was it so that I could put on the same kind of display you two did?"  
  
"I don't see as it's any of your business, but, for the record, I asked her because you wouldn't go."  
  
She was almost shouting now. "Is that-- Is that the way you've seen me all this time?"  
  
"All this time, no. But I'm out of here in June and I was looking to have a bit of fun..."  
  
"So you DID expect me to make a spectacle of myself!"  
  
"Well, so you did, only it was with Potter."  
  
"Well! If you expect me to say anything at all to you, Roger Davies, you'd better come back with a very well-crafted apology! And take a few days to get it right!" Cho jumped up and ran to the stairs to the girls' dormitories. She stopped there, and said, in a much softer voice, "Thanks for taking care of those Inquisitors." Then she dashed up the stairs.  
  
As she ran, she heard Roger: "Hey! Get back here!"  
  
Sorry, Rog, Cho said as she threw herself onto her bed. I don't mean to lie to you or evade anything, but it looks as if someone's betrayed the D.A. I can't make a move until I find out what's happening.  
  
Cho sat on her bed for the next hour, trying not to think of one particular thought that kept coming back to her: Marietta. Where is she? Did she have anything to do with this? She couldn't! She must have known that she'd be putting me in danger of expulsion--or worse! And herself as well, and Padma Patil, and Luna and Corner... But she's never really liked the D.A., and she's always grumbled about going to the meetings, but it was never more than just grumbling. She can't have found it so awful and still kept going for all these months. Or would she say I dragged her? No; I never dragged her. If she came along, it was because she chose to come. I told her often enough that she didn't have to attend if she didn't want to. And perhaps tonight she just didn't want to. She wasn't necessarily the traitor; maybe she's been in the library all this time, doing a scroll for Ancient Runes or, or, something...  
  
Cho tried and tried to convince herself that her Prefect and dorm-mate, her closest friend after a horrible year of nightmares about Cedric, that Marietta couldn't possibly be the one. But it just made too much sense.  
  
Cho had been in her room forty minutes when Raina al-Qaba came in, dropping her bookbag with a loud thud by her writing-desk. "Two hours studying Arithmancy and I still don't think I got any of it," she sighed. "Hi, Cho."  
  
"Were you in the library just now?" Raina nodded. "Was Marietta there?"  
  
"I didn't see her; but then, it's a big library." Raina stopped to think. "That's funny, though. If she was there, I would have seen her when Pince shooed us out at closing time."  
  
Just then Jan Nugginbridge walked in. Raina turned to her: "Jan, have you seen Marietta?"  
  
"Not since dinner. She came back here, said summat about goin' to hospital wing, then went off in a differ'nt direction."  
  
Cho jumped to her feet without a word and ran downstairs.  
  
The hospital wing; I never checked there. Maybe she really was sick; maybe she had nothing to do with this at all...  
  
As she neared the hospital wing, Cho could hear a student wailing and moaning like a lost soul. She knew that voice.  
  
Marietta.  
  
xxx  
  
to be continued in part 25, wherein Cho finds out what happened to Marietta and tries to make things right...  
  
A/N: The song Luna sings on the ramparts is a real song, although a Muggle one, and still fairly well known in Britain. "The Hippopotamus Song" was written in about 1960 by Michael Flanders and Donald Swann. 


End file.
